Baby, I'm Yours
by Shelbie's Whatchamacallit
Summary: Chibs and Claire attempt to live a life with some semblance of normalcy in it. Occasionally, they succeed. Baby, It's You should definitely be read first, and the rating will, as always, be an M.
1. Chapter 1

**Baby, I'm Yours**

_Dear "Baby, It's You" Fans, remember this? I know I said I wouldn't. But then I couldn't help myself. It was just...season five...and I just had too. I suppose it has been bothering me for awhile that Chibs and Claire ended on such an inconclusive note, and while this just kinda jumps back in, I think you'll find that they still have plenty to work out. It all started when I was thinking about how I never explained why Claire was so against having kids. It was something I always intended to include, but just...never found a place for. This spurred a one-shot. Which in turn spurred a whole slew of ideas, and then, when school let out for winter break I was finally able to indulge my addiction and catch up on season five. So...here's the sequel I swore I would never write. Or at least, the first bit. :) I'm not sure how long it will be yet, but I've got a whole two seasons of Chibs being Chibs to work with, so we shall see. :) As to "The Gaze and the Glance" readers, I am also working on that, so don't lose hope!_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Kisses and Fist-fights**

It was just an average morning in Charming. Sun was shining, air was clear, and Harleys were rumbling down Main street. Claire stood at the front door to the library, a neutral expression on her face as she watched the Sons coming home. Chibs had informed her of the trip, down to Arizona, as well as some troubling news about what exactly they would be coming back with. Drugs. The thought had made her cringe inside, it still did. From the line of bikers swinging past the library, she spied Chibs, and he raised his hand slightly to her in a little wave, which she returned, smiling.

It felt a little fake.

The rumbling troop of Harleys sped on by, and Claire returned indoors, Ruth, at the desk, shaking her head at her employee a little.

"I don't understand your fascination with those fellows Claire. They're dangerous you know."

"Oh, I know, don't worry Ruth. I'm being a good girl, I promise." Claire smiled, going back to her book sorting. Good girl. The phrase hardly meant anything to her these days, she had been anything but a good girl, hell, she'd even gone on her very own gun-run. Sort of. With most of the club in jail the last year or so, the Sons of Anarchy had been very, very understaffed, and the fact of the matter was, her Jetta could carry quite a few glocks in the trunk, more than three or four bikes could. Chibs had asked her, but he hadn't been happy about it, and she had agreed, though she had been nervous as hell about it. They'd set her up with a shipment of guns hidden under seats and with the spare tire, and with Chibs and Opie riding close on her tail the whole way, she had driven north on the pretense of visiting her family; dropping the artillery off in Oakland.

It had been the scariest thing she had done in a long, long time, but also, in a weird way, exhilarating. When they had gotten to the hotel in Portland, she and Chibs had ended up having crazy, mind-blowing sex, so it hadn't been all bad. In his words, "being a bad girl suits ya" and she was inclined to believe it. Sort of.

But still, this drugs thing. It just gave her a bad feeling, and from the sounds of things, she wasn't alone. She didn't want to think about what sort of tensions it was bringing up in the Club, not when most of them had just gotten back. She supposed she would just ask Chibs about it when he got home.

They had lived together for quite awhile, nearly a year since they had settled the debacle over Fiona as a matter of fact, but it had only recently been truly 'official'. Which basically meant Chibs had moved the rest of his clothes out the dorm room. And also his gun collection. It also meant that the 'no-secrets' rule was in full force. The rules they had set for this second chance were simple; no secrets for either of them. They told each other everything, no matter how small it seemed. On the one hand, it had made them that much more intimate with each other, but on the other, it also meant Claire was involved with quite a lot more Club business than she had been before.

Her day ended uneventfully, and Claire headed out toward Red Wood Estates, passing the lots set aside for Charming Heights. She was beginning to understand, watching the land get chopped up and gutted for a subdivision, why people had stopped Red Wood Estates from getting any bigger than her house. It was kind of sickening to watch, especially when she saw the kind of people who kept turning up in Charming while the Sons were otherwise-occupied. Or maybe she was biased now that she had lived here for awhile.

Chibs strode through the door not long after her, and swept a giggling Claire up off her feet when she went to meet him, his arms around her thighs, her head bending down to kiss him warmly.

"Welcome back," She said smiling.

"Miss me?"

"Hardly. I have ways of keeping myself entertained." Claire grinned, Chibs frowning up at her in an exaggerated fashion.

"Hell woman, don't make me jealous of yer vibrator, that won't end well, I promise ya."

"Then you shouldn't have bought if for me." She smirked. At the time it had been the weirdest Christmas present she had ever received, but when Chibs had started referring to her toy as her 'back-up boyfriend' she realized it had actually been very sweet; he just hadn't really really known how else to express an apology for the fact that, with how much else he'd had to do the last fourteen months, he sometimes just didn't have the energy to sleep with her. Although, she still hadn't figured out whether he had meant it as a joke or not. "How'd the run go?" She asked when she had wriggled her way back to the ground, Chibs getting a few more kisses out of her on her way down.

"Better than the last few anyway." He kissed her forehead and patted her ass while Claire headed to the living room, where she had been watching one of her favorite Clint Eastwood movies.

"And...the coke?" She questioned a little hesitantly.

"Still don't like it." He shook his head. "And I sure as hell don't like keeping it in Charming."

"But it got voted in so it has to stay?"

"Yep. Pretty much."

She frowned, not liking it either, if only because, from the sound of things, the drugs carried significantly more risk than the guns. After watching Tara and Gemma, she didn't want to experience Chibs going to jail. The Old Ladies had all pulled together when the Club had been inside and, now that she was officially part of the exclusive club, Claire had gotten a pretty good idea of what it was like when shit went south for SAMCRO.

"Oh, I made an appointment for my tattoo."

"Didja now? Where ya gonna put it?"

"On my shoulder, like you wanted. I think it'll look cute opposite the dove."

"Wearing my crow ain't supposed to be cute sweetheart."

"Yeah, well. You want to come hold my hand?"

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow after work."

"I'll be there. We gotta get some stuff done, but I'll be back by then. Promise."

"Is that a promise you can keep?"

"Er...right now I honestly dunno sweetheart. Things have been goin' a bit...things are changin'. And shit's getting a little more outta hand then it looked in the beginning."

"It's a drug cartel. Was Clay expecting a walk in the park?"

"Hell, I dunno Claire. I really donno at this point," Chibs sighed, plopping down in the easy chair.

"Things changing seems to be the soup of the day around here lately..." Claire commented, sitting daintily on the arm of the chair next to him. Chibs snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap, setting his chin on her shoulder. "I know I don't get a vote or anything, but Chibs...I don't think this can end well. It's getting really dangerous really fast."

"Don't I know it. We got some Mexican fucker deciding what we do, and we're in a business we swore we'd never get into..." He mumbled, tucking his face into her longer hair. Despite liking her short hair as much as she had, in the end, she had decided she was getting a little old to keep the rockstar bob, and had started trying to grow it out. Shoulder-length was where it had ended. "If I told ya going through with this could set us both up for life, what would ya say?"

"I'd say come home to me safe, and I don't give a shit about the money. Besides, we'd already be set up or whatever if you'd swallow that delicate male ego of yours and let me use my trust-fund. It's not like it would go anywhere else."

"Nah. Ya keep your father's money. Ya may need it fer something."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Case we have a kid and wanna send 'em to college or somethin'."

"I thought we decided kids weren't an option."

"Well, ya never know. Could happen."

"Chibs, I don't want kids. I never have."

"Why?" Chibs pulled his head off her shoulder and looked at her, with the one gentle look she had, at one point, never been able to decipher the meaning of.

"Just...because." Her fingers twisted together, though she knew that would be a dead giveaway to Chibs that she was evading the truth.

"Claire, honey, that isn't an answer. Ya always say that, tell me why."

"I...it's about my family. So it's kinda a long story."

"No secrets," He reminded, wrapping both his arms around her waist. Claire sighed, knowing he was right. It had never been a secret she intended to keep really, but no one had ever really asked her about it either. She sighed again, letting her fingers wind into his hair, also longer these days. She supposed he was looking for something to distract them from talking about the dark days the Club was heading too. That said, she didn't know whether talking about her sad past with her family was going to be much better subject matter.

"When...when I was with Ben, my father...he was really dead set on marrying me off and getting me out of his hair. So, after Ben and I had been together a couple months, and he hadn't, you know, given me some kinda permanent commitment, my father called me into his office. It was weird, because he never did that, but, I went anyway, figured what was the worst that could happen? He sat me down, gave me some crap about how he liked the changes I was making in my life, liked to see me settling down, and then, out of the blue, told me to stop taking birth control."

"Ah, hell, Claire..." Chibs' voice was quiet, and his arms squeezed her a little tighter.

"He told me the best way to get a proposal out of Ben was to get pregnant. And at first...well, at first I actually tried. I just wanted things to work out. Between me and Ben, me and my Father...and for awhile, I thought I was. Test came back positive and everything. And I felt like such shit. I didn't think I could love the baby, I didn't love Ben, I wasn't ready to do...do anything like that. I freaked. I stayed with a friend for a week before I worked up the courage and went to a clinic." Her voice was getting quieter the more she told him. She had never told anyone this story, never in this much detail. It was something she had been packing around for so, so long. She had almost forgotten what had happened, how much it had hurt. "I didn't know what scared me more, the idea of being pregnant with a baby I'd never wanted, that was just going to tie me to Ben when I wanted nothing more than to get away, or the idea that I might end up killing it. I guess it didn't matter though, I wasn't actually pregnant, it was just because I'd been off my pills. I was so relieved I nearly passed out. I started getting birth control from Planned Parenthood, hiding it from my father and Ben. And I just kept lying that we were trying."

"Sometimes I wish that asshole was still alive so I could kick the shit outta him," Chibs muttered, reaching up one hand to wrap her in a better hug. "That's some seriously fucked-up shit sweetheart."

"Trust me, I know. That's when things went really sour between me and Ben. Even when I was on my pills again I was so paranoid that all he wanted to do was knock me up I wouldn't let him touch me for weeks. I guess I figured out that I'd never really wanted him too in the first place. That probably worked out for the better though."

"Now that asshole I can go kick the shit out of. Ya want me and Hap' to go put the fear of God in the fucker?"

"Jesus Chibs, Happy would probably castrate him just for shits and giggles." For some reason, or maybe she was morbid, the idea made her laugh. Probably just because Ben had always had a bit of hubris in the size of his dick -never mind the fact he thought size made up for being a pretty bad lay- and the idea of him losing his pride and joy was deeply satisfying. Picturing Ben's face if Happy and Chibs did ever show up on his doorstep made her laugh a little louder.

"Is that a yes then?" He asked, quirking his mouth up at her a little.

"No, it's not. I may hate Ben, but I don't want him ending up dead in a ditch somewhere. I just want to keep him out of my life."

"That makes two of us." Chibs kissed her collar-bone lightly, mostly, she supposed, because that was the most readily-available part of her to kiss while she was still sprawled in his lap. "Look, Claire, I just want ya to know that wearing a crow is serious shit, but it's not supposed to tie ya down. Not like that. I don't want ya to ever think I'm trying to control ya like that. I just fuckin' love ya."

Claire felt her lips curling in another smile. The ever-eloquent Chibs. "I love you too. And I said I wanted the tattoo remember? You asked, I said yes, simple as that." She curled her arms around his shoulders, tucking her head against his. "The sad part is that sometimes I wonder if maybe I do want a baby. When I look at Tara sometimes...it just kinda makes me wonder what it's like. What that love feels like." This admission was even quieter than the first one. "But then I get scared again."

"If ya ever wanted it sweetheart, yu'd be a damn good mother. Dunno what kinda dad I'd be though. I wasn't around to do much raising for Kerrianne, don't think I'd be much good for it honestly."

"I just...did you ever think it was because I didn't want to have kids with you or something? Because it was never that. I was just so used to being...I dunno, paranoid about getting pregnant. I never even thought about how that would look to you."

Chibs shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I wondered a couple times, mostly I figured I didn't really strike ya as the father type. 'Sides, I'm getting a little old fer kids of my own."

"You're not that old, Chibs. Anyway, with age comes experience, and I'll take experience any day."

"Flattery isn't gonna get ya anywhere but the bedroom sweetheart."

"Funny, I'm pretty sure that's where I was trying to go." She slid off his lap to sashay her way to the hallway, Chibs promptly giving chase with a slight growl in his throat.

"Then don't ya dare make me chase yer pretty tail all over the house."

Claire smiled, picking up the pace a little. Oh, he'd have to chase her alright, but she also definitely planned to let him catch her. Naked. Sprawled out in bed. Waiting for him, just like she planned to be every time he came home from a long ride.

It felt good to have her story out on the table. And it felt good to know that Chibs had understood, even if his solution was to take his ruthless-killer of a friend Happy up to Oregon and introduce him to her ex-fiance. Her solution was simpler; they would just keep on going the way they had been. While it had never been a big debate between them, Chibs had been bringing up kids a lot the last few months, and she had been beginning to suspect that maybe, just maybe, he was looking into the two of them having a family, because he too had been watching out for Tara and helping out with Jax's boys. The idea, as it always had, had filled her with dread, but she hadn't been so scared of the thought, like she had been with Ben. She figured if she could willingly have a baby with anyone, it would be Chibs, because she loved him. It seemed now however that he had merely been curious, and was also perfectly content with the way things were between them.

Worked out well for the both of them.

* * *

Sunlight beating on his face woke Chibs the next morning. You'd think, after all the mornings he had woken up in this bed, he would have learned to close the bloody curtains before the sun started rising the next day. He could get up and close them now, but, it was early and he was tired, and Claire was keeping him nice and warm. She had her back to him, but she was pressed against his side, her head leaning back against his shoulder slightly.

It was weird to think he had seen her grow up since she had come to Charming. Maybe coming out of her shell was the better way to put it. Shy, quiet, reserved little Claire was ever getting more and more comfortable in her own skin.

He suspected a lot of it had to do with the fact she had found her place to belong. With the Sons of Anarchy. At one point the thought would have made him frown, it still did a little bit, considering the kind of trouble they were getting into these days, but it seemed as though she had always been meant to belong here. She had gotten close with many of the Sons, as while most of the club had been in jail she had been a main line of communication to the outside world. She was, after all, a little less suspicious than he or Opie or Kozik, so she had carried quite a few messages between the Sons; naturally it had made them all a little closer, a little more family.

And then there was the part where she had saved not just his ass, but the collective asses of everyone in the California charter, even Happy had sent regards for brave little Claire's mission up to Oakland. The Oregon charter had been more than willing to help, but they had all known the Niners were unlikely to do business with anyone they were unfamiliar with. He hoped he lived long enough to show her how much that one gesture of love, of bravery, had meant to him. Oh yes, his little minx was turning into a hell of an Old Lady. That said, as much as he wanted to get down on his knees and thank her for being the woman she was, he also hoped he could prevent her from committing any more felonies.

A deep breath and a wiggle of her lovely arse informed him that she was waking up, rolling around a little to latch an arm around him sleepily. "Morning..." Her voice tickled his ear.

"Morning lovely."

"You're up kinda early. You sleep okay?"

"I'm just awake, not up yet."

"I could fix that."

He smirked, remembering once, not long ago, there had been a time that Claire hadn't been able to make an even slightly lewd suggestion without flushing crimson. Maybe it was just because she was still half-asleep, but she wasn't blushing at the moment. Just smiling a little content, sleepy smile.

"Much as I'd love to take ya up on that, and ya know I would, I gotta head out to the warehouse." She made a less-than happy face in response, but he suspected it had less to do with the fact he was saying no to sex, and more to do with the fact she knew what was in the warehouse. "It only has to stay for a few days. Till they pick it up."

"So now Cartels are going to be coming to Charming? Lovely." She set her chin on his arm, making a face that was something akin to pouting. "Does it bug you?"

"A whole helluva lot. But we're in too far to say no now." Chibs shook his head. It had been hard enough keeping the Irish happy so they wouldn't shoot up Charming, he didn't even want to imagine how hard it was going to be to keep Cartels happy. Seeing as Cartels were mostly famous for dirty business and shooting up small towns not unlike Charming. Still, both Clay and Jax had been behind this, and they seemed to think they knew what the hell they were doing. Didn't mean he was going to forget his contingency plan of sending her as far away as he could get her though. Which, of course, really hinged on whether she would go or not.

"I know. It just makes me really uncomfortable. Drugs make people do bad shit, and...and if they start bringing their business here-"

"No drugs are staying in Charming." Chibs cut her off. "We just move 'em, but we're sure as shit not gonna start selling them, or letting anyone else sell them here for that matter."

"Okay. That's all I wanted to know. Anyway, I should probably be getting ready to go too." She wiggled backwards off the edge of the mattress and started towards the bathroom, Chibs not far behind her.

As crazy as things managed to get on the outside, here, home, Chibs could make sense of things. He could moralize all he wanted with the Club, but it was usually Claire's presence that made him decide what was right. And muling blow around for the Mexican equivalent of the mob didn't feel right. Until they figured out the best way to get back out of it however, he was just going to have to be careful.

* * *

Two days later, Claire was sitting at the table, drinking a glass of wine and, despite herself, worrying. Chibs had warned her he wouldn't be back until late, but it always made her anxious when she went to bed alone. She supposed some part of her was paranoid she would sleep right through something bad happening to him; when he had nearly been blown to bits a couple years ago she hadn't even realized until Jax had told her. Of course, considering the fact a second Cartel had invaded Charming and attempted to gun down the entirety of SAMCRO, she figured she was justified in being paranoid. She'd been able to hear the gun fire fairly clearly at the library, and much to Ruth's bemusement, Claire had begged to be allowed to go check on Teller-Morrow. Predicting the inevitable freak-out, Chibs had called not long after the sounds of guns had died down, and managed to assure they were all fine and console her back to being more-or-less reasonable. Still, the scare had left an uneasy, nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach for the remainder of the day.

Claire reached back, gently touching the sensitive skin around her brand-new crow, sitting pristine on her left shoulder. Chibs had never made it to her appointment, but she, Tara, Lyla, and Gemma had made a day out of it. Claire went to get her tattoo, Gemma going along to provide the design and moral support which Claire hadn't needed, and after that they had all gone to a little dinner, swapping gossip -especially that which pertained to their specific men of SAMCRO- and spent a bit of time shopping and sharing company. It had been a nice day of normalcy for them all, until, of course, the shooting had occurred. Then everything had gone to hell again. Still, Chibs had shown plenty of appreciation when he finally did make it home later; she supposed she ought to be grateful for the couple of hours her skin had to heal, because Chibs' version of a celebration had involved a lot of rigorous activity in various locations and positions between the door and the bed. Thinking this, Claire rose from the table and headed to the bathroom, intending to fetch her tattoo ointment, realizing it had been a few hours since the last time she treated it.

She never made it to the bathroom however, because she was distracted when a car sounded in the driveway, but it definitely wasn't the Harley she had been expecting to hear. Cautiously, Claire headed to the front door, peeking out of the window and saw a familiar black van in the drive way. The van was from Teller-Morrow, so maybe Chibs had just wrecked or something? Not likely, but she wasn't willing to think of anything worse than that at the moment. She pulled the door open, and found an utterly miserable looking Juice on her doorstep, Chibs right behind him.

"What happened?" She looked between the two of them, Chibs just shook his head, but Juice blurted:

"I did something stupid," Before shutting his mouth and looking caught somewhere between shame and utter misery, staring hard at the floor.

"What?" Claire looked at Chibs again, who gave a vague indication towards the younger man's neck. She reached a tentative hand out to Juice's collar, and she didn't have to pull it very far to see the bruise underneath. "Jesus, Juice, what happened?"

"I..."He started, but didn't finish, and Claire decided she wasn't going to push him any farther. She glanced at Chibs yet again, silently asking for an explanation.

"I think he's gonna stay with us a coupla days."

"Sure. Of course." She turned back into the house, Juice following her the way a sleepy child followed a parent, and she sat him on the couch, walking into the kitchen, thinking, for some reason, that a snack would make him feel better. Chibs followed her.

"Chibs what the hell did he do?"

"He tried to off himself." The words were deceptively nonchalant, but his face was grim and his eyes looked a little haunted. Clearly, he was more shaken than he was letting on.

"Kill himself? Why?" She demanded in a low voice while Chibs dug into the liquor cabinet. "You're not seriously going to give him alcohol are you? That's not going to help."

"Who said it was fer Juice?" Chibs replied, unscrewing the cap of the whiskey he had finally picked and taking a swig. "And no. He didn't tell me why. But I can guess." She cast him a glance which asked him to continue. "We got brothers killin' brothers. Miles, the guy who died, Juice shot him. He was trying to steal the coke."

"Why is it everything bad seems to be revolving around these goddamn drugs?" Claire hissed, more to herself than Chibs. Really, she supposed they both knew the answer anyway. But still, Juice? Juice had always been so happy...of all the people in the world, he would have been one of the last she would peg as suicidal. Then again, killing someone...she didn't think he had killed anyone before either. It had to have messed him up a little.

"Claire," Chibs' hand on her arm dragged her out of her thoughts, "-we can't let anyone else find out about this."

"But...Chibs, for Christ's sake, he tried to kill himself. We have to tell someone, like, a psychologist or something. He needs help."

"We can't tell anyone," He reiterated firmly. "If the Club finds out they're gonna vote him out. And that sure as shit ain't gonna make it better. We just need to give him a couple days so he can find his way."

"And what if finding his way involves a less obvious way to kill himself?" She questioned, rather vehemently. Juice made an obvious cry for help, and what would the Sons do? Vote him out of the goddamn club so he could feel even more lost, even more helpless. Chibs didn't flinch under her tone.

"That's why he's here. I'm gonna keep an eye on him until I can talk to Jax about it. I just...need yer help." He looked at her solemnly. "He'll probably talk to ya. Yer not one of us so..."

"So I can't vote him out."

"Basically, yeah. And yer just...yer a lot gentler than I could ever be. I think he needs that more than anything else."

"I don't know if just being gentle is going to fix this..." Claire said quietly, remembering she had been thinking to find Juice some food and returned to scavenging in the fridge.

"Yer probably right, but I dunno what else to do for him. Not until I talk to Jax and make sure he's not gonna get abandoned in the middle of this shite-storm."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, having a hard time deciding what his tone meant. He was genuinely concerned, that much she could tell, but he also seemed extremely irritated; at what, she wasn't sure. Because Juice had tried to hurt himself? Because the Sons would vote him out for it? Or simply because Chibs hadn't been able to fix it himself?

"It's late," Claire said quietly, finally deciding to offer Juice the chocolate mini-muffins she had bought for comfort food, and starting some coffee for him, and possibly herself, "-get some rest Chibs. You look like you need it almost as bad as Juice does. Don't worry, I'll take care of him."

Chibs was quiet for a moment, then leaned over and kissed her hard, the whiskey on his lips burning on hers. "I dunno what the hell I'd do without ya lovely," He muttered, kissing her again to punctuate the sentence, more gently this time.

"You'd probably scare Juice," She said with as much a smile as she could muster. "I'll keep an eye on him for tonight. Call in sick tomorrow or something."

Chibs wandered back towards their room, and Claire headed back into the living room, offering Juice a muffin and sitting next to him.

"You want to talk about it?" Juice shook his head. "You want a hug? I give pretty good hugs." Juice started to shake his head, then changed his mind and nodded instead. He leaned over towards her, his head landing on her shoulder. Claire wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and waited for him to be ready to talk, knowing that pushing him would only make him pull away.

He stayed like that for awhile, mumbling occasionally, though it was nothing beyond muttering about feeling stupid, and wishing he'd never done 'it'. He never clarified whatever the 'it' was. Chibs wandered through the living room a couple times, but each time Claire shook her head at him, hoping to communicate that Juice didn't seem to be improving any. After awhile, she heard him stop wandering, and he seemed to have gone to bed.

At around four in the morning, the light snore coming from Juice told her he'd finally just fallen asleep, and she hadn't the faintest clue if anything had changed. He'd probably wake up tomorrow feeling just as suicidal. Juice needed help, more than just a shoulder to lean on, more than her trying to be his mother figure. But if Chibs was right, if telling anyone else was just going to get him voted out of SAMCRO, she didn't really want to risk signing him up for therapy or anything. She moved him toward the couch pillow, getting him down to jeans and t-shirt, and found him a blanket before taking her own sleepy-self to bed.

Chibs was sprawled out on his side on top of the blankets with the light still on, and still dressed except for his cut which was tossed at the foot of the bed and his shoes on the floor. The whiskey was almost gone, the bottle sitting on the bedside table.

Too tired to care much, Claire stripped down to her underwear and pulled a tank-top on, crawling into bed and curling up next to him, settling her head on his chest, her arm hooking around his middle. He stirred sleepily, his arm curling up around her shoulders.

"'Ey sweetheart..." He slurred quietly at her.

"Hey."

"Anythin'?"

"He didn't want to talk about it." She shook her head, rubbing her cheek on his chest. "He just fell asleep on me. He's in serious trouble Chibs, something has to change for him"

"I know lovely, I know."

"I know you can't go against the club Filip, but...please, just keep him safe, okay?"

"Y'know I will. Get some sleep sweetheart." He leaned his head over to plant a kiss on her forehead, already dozing again from the look of things. Claire wasn't sure she could get any sleep, considering the situation; she'd probably be up all night now, listening for any signs of Juice endangering himself.

* * *

He didn't end up staying. Chibs had meticulously tucked the blanket up around her neck to keep her warm after he had gotten up, and she could hear him in the kitchen, making more coffee from the sounds of it. She showered quickly and dressed, heading to the kitchen herself.

"Juice left?"

"Aye. Musta been pretty early. I didn't hear him." Chibs shook his head. "He took the truck."

"You want to take the Jetta?" He made a face, which she returned. "What's wrong with my car?"

"It's a fuckin' girl car."

"Hey, lots of guys drive Volkswagens Chibs."

"Yeah, well, not this guy."

She smirked, pouring herself some coffee, and picking up Juices' untouched muffin for breakfast. "Well, if it will save your poor pride, I can give you a lift so you don't have to be seen driving a chick car. I kinda planned to go to work today anyway, I'll only be a few minutes late if we leave soon."

"Didja sleep at all?" His expression was slightly concerned. She wondered if she had circles under her eyes or something.

"A little. But if I just sit here by myself all day I'll worry about you and Juice and...well, everybody I guess. At least at the library I can stay busy." The expression shifted now from concern to something more like empathy. He reached over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side.

"This is gonna get better Claire."

"I hope so. Be careful today, okay? Yesterday scared the shit out of me, and I'm worried about Juice, and-"

"And yer handling it like a champ sweetheart." He interrupted her gently. "Yer a hell of an Old Lady."

"Y'know, the weird thing this is I'm pretty sure most women my age would find it insulting to be called an Old Lady."

"Yeah, they dunno what they're missing out on." Chibs smiled and laid a kiss against her temple.

"Suppose they don't." Claire smiled, though she felt it probably looked a little forced. She turned her head up and kissed him lightly. "Let's go, I don't want to show up too late, or Ruth will think I'm up to no good."

"I'm pretty sure she knows we're always up to no good."

* * *

Claire didn't like the look of things when she finally pulled into the Teller-Morrow lot to drop Chibs off. She felt like tension had been leaking off the place ever since the rest of the Club had come home and started this ridiculous circus with the Cartel. Chibs leaned across the center console and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks for the ride lovely."

"No problem." She gave a small smile. "Any idea what time you'll be home?"

"At a normal time, God willing," Chibs grumbled, somewhat more serious looking than his tone.

"Okay," Claire agreed, somewhat forlornly. It wasn't really a definitive answer, and she knew, whether she could help it or not, she would probably end up trying to wait up for him again. She silently wondered if she had always been such a worry-wart, or if this was a recent development spurred by how many disasters had been buffeting the Sons of Anarchy since their release from County. As usual, she found herself wondering how in the world Gemma dealt with everything so calmly. Claire, though she was most definitely attached to the other members of the Club, was naturally most concerned with Chibs' safety, while Gemma had both her son and her husband to worry about. Not to mention she was more or less the matriarch of the entire Club. How could she stand it? And how in hell had it not driven her insane yet?

"We'll be okay Claire," Chibs said, catching her somber expression. "Juice'll be fine. I'll look after him."

"I know. It's just...Juice isn't the only one I'm worried about."

"I'm gonna be fine too."

"Can't blame me for worrying..."

"Guess not," Chibs agreed, frowning.

"Look, Filip, all I want to know is if this is going to end. I mean, Juice seriously tried to kill himself, and...and people tried to kill all of you the other day. That's a big deal. A huge deal. And I...I don't want things to be like this forever. I don't know if I can live with Charming going to pieces around my ears. And just so you know this isn't me threatening to leave if things don't change or something like that, this is just me asking if this _will _end or if I need to start taking some tough lessons from Gemma." Claire took a breath at the end of her ramble. One of the things that had always been true between herself and Chibs was that whenever she tried to tell him anything, she usually ended up telling him everything. And usually in a rather extended, convoluted jumble. And he had always told her he appreciated the honesty.

"Yer plenty tough sweetheart."

"Then why am I sitting here freaking out?" Claire questioned. Not that she actually expected him to have an answer or anything.

Chibs raised an eyebrow. "This is ya freaking out? I don't think ya know the meanin' of the term sweetheart."

"Well, not all women get hysterical and start screaming. Some of us are actually a little calm."

Chibs' mouth was twitching slightly, he was trying very hard not to smile at her. Claire shot him the best glare she could muster; which wasn't very scary, or so she had been told.

"Yer a doll sweetheart," Chibs said, grabbing her gently by the back of the neck and kissing her, "-and yer damn cute when you try to look mean."

"In other words I fail miserably at it."

"Yeah basically."

"Asshole." Again, Chibs just smiled at her. "Filip, I'm serious. Is this how things are always going to be?"

"I can't answer that yet lovely." Claire sighed, her fingers curling over his wrist behind her head.

"I guess that's as good as I was expecting, given the state of things." She gave his hand a little tug, pulling it off her neck and kissing his fingers lightly. "I'm going to be late."

"Alright." He agreed with a nod, understanding, she assumed, that this wouldn't come up again until he could give her some real answers. "If I'm not back when ya go to bed, make sure ya lock the doors."

She scoffed at him slightly, smiling for a change. "And to think you used to make fun of me for having three dead bolts."

"Well, that was then-"

"And this is now. So get your ass out of my car and let me go to work, okay sweetie?"

Chibs rewarded her sass with a laugh and another kiss, his calloused fingers sneaking under her shirt for a quick grope which ended when Tig approached and started knocking on the passenger window with mock-impatience.

"Either get a room or let me join in," Tig declared when Chibs opened the door.

"Sorry Tiggy, I'm still off-limits," Claire replied, smiling a little. After Happy, Tig was probably the Son Claire had the hardest time figuring out. For one, he always called her 'Princess' and she had no idea why, she didn't think she had heard him use her actual name in nearly a year. Two, he liked to -in his words- "keep Chibs on his toes" by shamelessly propositioning her whenever the opportunity presented itself. He had even, not all that long ago, laid quite the kiss on her, though no one but her had seemed to think much of it. Even Chibs had been standing next to her and hadn't seemed all that bothered. Tig had explained it as being a thank you for for her adventure into Oakland, and she had let it go at that. She had decided, eventually, that Tig was just expressing the fact he was fond of her, and simply had issues separating affection from lust. As long as it never went further than a kiss here and there, she wasn't inclined to mind his occasional lewd suggestions. Unless they started bothering Chibs, and then she suspected she would probably have a hot mess on her hands. If they didn't go straight to fisticuffs to settle it of their own accord.

_ Cross that bridge when you come to it, _She told herself silently. _After all, Tig knows plenty of women who would actually listen to those suggestions. _She waved at the both of them as she left the Teller-Morrow lot, Chibs waved back, and Tig blew her a very exaggerated kiss, getting a punch in the arm from Chibs in response. Claire laughed to herself, wondering if one or both of them had been able to read her musings on her face.

She grew sober again when she passed Juice pulling into the lot, and was reminded, again, that things weren't so simple as kisses and fist-fights anymore.

Her somber attitude stayed with her all the way to the library, and she gathered from Ruth's stern expression that her tardiness wasn't going to go unnoticed.

"Sorry, uhm...long night." Claire offered lamely.

"And I suppose you'll tell me it has nothing to do with that boyfriend of yours."

Chibs had always been "that boyfriend" to Ruth, because, simply put, Claire knew Ruth wouldn't like him. Didn't like him, considering the way she glared whenever Chibs showed up to visit Claire, usually under the pretense of looking up the most ridiculous book he could think of. The latest example being _And the Hippos were boiled in Their Tanks. _Burroughs and Kerouac, go figure. She honestly had no idea where Chibs found some of the shit he pretended to be looking for, so far they had all been equally as obscure and strange. Or why he pretended to be looking for a book in the first place, since he had never bothered to leave with one. She was honestly actually a little surprised that Ruth hadn't yet put two and two together.

"No," Claire gave in answer to Ruth's question. "Family stuff."

Ruth frowned, but sympathetically. She didn't know a lot of details about Claire's life, obviously, but she knew Claire didn't get along with what little biological family she had left these days. "They still want you to leave Charming?"

"No, I think they gave up on that. Things have just been a little...ehm...hectic." Claire felt her face scrunch up slightly. Hectic was an understatement.

Ruth let this pass silently as Claire placed her things under the desk in their usual spots. "Claire, you know I think you're a very sweet girl," She said abruptly, "-so I want you to know you can trust me. You can tell me what's really bothering you."

Claire blinked at her in mild surprise. Sometimes she forgot Ruth's bad eye-sight didn't mean she wasn't observant. Still, she didn't feel like getting into the details. "I'm okay Ruth, really."

The older woman however, wasn't about to let it go. "It's that guy, isn't it?"

"Guy?"

"The Sons of Anarchy one who's always showing up here. It's him, isn't it? Is he harassing you? Just because he's in that awful club doesn't mean you have to put up with him. You can call the police, the new sheriff isn't going to let them run this town the way Unser did."

Now, Claire could only stare, aghast, her mouth slightly open. Did Ruth seriously believe that? Seriously? No wonder she had never caught on to the two of them sneaking off together, she was clearly preoccupied with thinking Chibs was somehow a threat to Claire. She shook her head.

"No, Ruth, it has nothing to do with him. He's actually very nice if you talk to him."

"I'm sure." She scoffed in response, and Claire chose to drop it at that. Though she was starting to think it may have worked out in her favor that she had never divulged much personal information to Ruth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Baby, I'm Yours**

_Author's Note: So, this is about half the size of number one. Why? Because it's predominantly smut. And also because too many things going on in one chapter makes it feel crowded. :) And also because it would have been a bad cliffhanger. Like...cliche bad. Anywho-a-way, sorry for the delay, school and work are both proving to be a little more time-consuming than I had originally anticipated, and I'm still organizing exactly how all this will happen, but it should move a little faster after this. I hope. But I won't promise anything. :) _

* * *

**Chapter 2: A Day in the Life**

There were times when Chibs seriously considered packing his shit, packing Claire's, putting as much of it as they could in her car and getting the hell out Charming. Get away from everything that was going wrong, before she ended up...hell, before she ended up like Tara. Or like Luann. He could take a beating, he could get shot at, he could go to jail, all that shit he could live with. He had been living with it what felt like his whole damn life at this point. But Claire. He sincerely didn't think he could live with the idea that he had endangered Claire. And now, considering Tara's current whereabouts in the hospital, that possibility was looming far too close for his comfort, and the close call with Jimmy O. before made it all the more real. All the more plausible. He _knew _what it felt like to have the fear for Claire's life hanging over his head, and he would kill to prevent it from ever happening again. The only trouble being, he didn't know who to kill in order to prevent it. There were too many threats out there, too many possibilities. What if he couldn't protect her?

Logically he knew that he couldn't immediately cause anything bad to happen to her, but for some reason, he couldn't make himself walk through the front door. Hadn't been able to for the last couple hours as a matter of fact. He had been on the damn porch swing, smoking what seemed like an entire pack of cigarettes instead.

"Shit," Chibs muttered aloud, rubbing a hand across his eyes, and not totally sure what the expletive was directed at. He didn't know what to do. Take Claire and leave? That's what Jax had tried to do. Would it backfire on him just as readily as it had Jax? Try to convince Claire to leave? But for how long? Could he bear to let her go as long as it might take to fix everything that had gone wrong? He didn't want her to stay here. Not now, not with things the way they were. The only problem was that he didn't know whether it could change now. What if no matter what he did he ended up losing her forever?

Chibs heard the various locks on the door clicking and the door sliding open, and glanced up at Claire, framed in a brilliant halo of hallway light. She had one of her neutral expressions on. A sign of either anger or sadness; Chibs couldn't decide which.

"I'm pretty sure we haven't fought recently. And if we had, I don't think it would have been bad enough that I would make you sleep on the porch," She said softly, stepping outside and pulling her baggy sweater close around herself.

"Nothing like that sweetheart." Chibs shook his head.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? I heard you pull in like...forever ago." Her head nodded slightly towards the pile of cigarette butts that had formed between his feet, and he gave an absent shrug, leaning down to sweep them into a corner. She had probably meant it more as a hint of how much time had passed rather than to clean up, but Chibs wasn't sure what to say, what else to do. Claire's slipper-clad feet shuffled across the porch, circling behind him, and her arms draped around his neck like a scarf, her breasts pressing into his back lightly and her cheek resting next to his ear. "What's wrong?" Her voice was quieter now, sadder. She was worried, he couldn't blame her. It seemed like he was always asking her to put up with more and more.

"Ya remember, right after Donna was killed, I asked ya to never leave Charming?"

"Uh-huh. I promised to stay. Not that it lasted too long." She sounded a little despondent, and her arms started to loosen their grip. Chibs grabbed onto her elbow lightly, not quite ready to let her comfort go.

"That was my fault," He said simply. "But...Claire, sweetheart, I think I'm gonna have to amend that."

Silence. He could feel her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as she blinked, probably in confusion. "Meaning...?" She asked, in a tone which bordered on frosty.

"I think ya need to leave Charming."

Her hands shifted, busy fingers twisting at the loose threads of her sweater. Always with her fidgeting hands, but she was quiet for a moment more.

"Why?"

Chibs heaved a sigh, his fingers curling over her elbow a little more firmly. "Jax and Tara were taking a trip today, headin' up to Oregon fer a bit and...and they got attacked."

"Attacked? Are they okay? Are the boys?"

"The boys and Jax are fine-"

"What about Tara? Is Tara okay?" She pulled away from him now, Claire practically marching around the swing to stare at Chibs with a mix of terror and demand in her eyes.

"She's in the hospital. She's alright, mostly. They tried to take her and...and hell, I dunno. Jax doesn't even know. But her hand's pretty fucked up."

"Her hand? Oh, God. She's probably...oh hell." Claire sat heavily beside him, holding her forehead in her hands. Silence drifted for a long moment. "Of all the shit to happen to Tara..."

"That's why I think ya...I think ya should get outta here Claire. If someone goes after ya-"

"When this same kind of thing happened with Jimmy you brought me back here to protect me. Why is this time any different?"

"Because Charming isn't safe anymore sweetheart. The problem's here, and I want ya as far fuckin' away from it as ya can be."

"And where do you want me to go? Portland? That's the only place I have any friends, any family, and it's only so far away. You only have to drive up the damn interstate."

"Maybe Koz can get in touch with a coupla guys from Tacoma-"

"No." Claire interrupted him suddenly.

"No?" Chibs repeated, a little stunned by her abrupt declaration.

"I'm not going. Not to Oregon, and not to Washington."

"And why the hell not? Ya wanna get yerself hurt?" Chibs demanded, staring over at her in disbelief. Of all the bloody times to to be stubborn...

"Because I don't want to," She she said simply, as though it was the end-all-be-all of the conversation.

"Ya do understand we're dealing with a Cartel here, right? A fucking _Cartel. _These people don't mess around Claire. If they decide to hurt ya-"

"Do you want me to leave?" She interrupted again, just as firmly as she had the first time, and again, Chibs balked. Sometimes he forgot that her blunt assertiveness went hand in hand with Claire's recently-discovered bravery. He occasionally needed to be reminded that these days she was perfectly capable of telling him what she wanted. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you want me to leave."

Chibs looked at his feet, looked back up at her. "Ya know I don't. But keepin' ya safe matters more to me than what I want."

"What about what I want? I don't want to leave. I don't want be two states away, hidden away in some over-priced apartment while you and everyone else I love is down here with all hell breaking loose."

"And what the hell d'ya plan to do if some Mexican hitman shows up on our front porch?"

"You could teach me to shoot," Claire suggested, folding her arms around herself. "I can start carrying a gun." His skepticism must have shown on his face -Claire had never once in her life handled a gun to his knowledge- because she frowned deeply. "I'm supposed to be your Old Lady Chibs. I'm not supposed to run away, I'm supposed to be here with you, I'm supposed to be tough. You can't ask me for that kind of commitment only to push me away afterwards."

"I will if it means savin' yer ass," He shot back. She was silent again, staring straight ahead, staring at nothing,

"Is this the kind of stuff you said to Fiona?"

Now, utterly taken aback, Chibs stared at her wide-eyed. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what you think it means. Was it the same with her? I don't want keeping me safe to turn into never coming back, like it did with Fiona." Now she was staring at him, and Chibs felt oddly unnerved by it. Or maybe the better word was guilty; because she was right, in a way. He had been trying to protect his family, and that had indeed turned into never coming back. The circumstances were different, but Chibs wasn't interested in repeating history. He didn't want to lose his Old Lady, his love, especially considering he had lost Claire once already, and he was scared shitless that if it happened again, it would be permanent this time.

"It's not the same sweetheart. And it's not gonna be forever, I swear. I...shit, Claire, I'd fucking lose it if ya got hurt. Things are different than they were back then. I didn't know how to protect Fiona and Kerrianne, but I know I can keep ya safe. I can't let ya stay here and get hurt because of me, I just fucking...can't. I need ya to go."

"But for how long?" She protested, whipping her head around to face him, strands of her pretty hair clinging to tear-stained cheeks. He realized suddenly that he hadn't even noticed she had started to cry, and he felt like an ass."How long would I have hide? Until the Cartels leave Charming alone? What if they never do? What if you can never fix this? And what then? Will you ask me to leave every time Sons of Anarchy get involved in something dangerous? Well, I've got news for you Chibs, almost everything you guys do is dangerous one way or another, and I knew that and I was damn well prepared for it when I decided to come back, when I decided to be with you again. So please stop treating me like I was too naïve to know what was being asked of me."

"Getting ya hurt was never part of the damned deal." Chibs answered firmly. "Go inside and pack some shit, I'm taking ya up to Portland tomorrow."

She stared at him, mouth slightly open, but Chibs wasn't going to let her indignation get in the way of her safety. He knew he was being over-bearing, high-handed, perhaps a little chauvinistic in the way he was deciding things for her; but despite what Claire had said, he knew that she wasn't really prepared, not for this. She didn't understand the real danger. Claire stood up, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"No." She said again, simply and firmly. "I'm not going. Not of my own free will. Force me if you want, but don't expect me to sit back and take it." With that she stalked into the house, not quite slamming the door behind her, but it cracked a little louder than necessary

Chibs hung his head slightly, a frustrated sigh forcing its way out of his lungs. Words she hadn't needed to say hung in the silence. If he forced her, Claire would be pissed. Really, really pissed. And he knew Claire's tendency to run away when she was pissed. Would she come back if he forced her hand and made her run? Because she was right, he didn't know how long he would have to ask her to be gone. What if it ended being forever? Or hell, what if he got killed while she was gone? He didn't think he would want to die knowing he hadn't held Claire in his arms the night before.

But the danger was so real, so close. How could he risk her life that way?

He sighed again, dug around in his pockets for another cigarette, and came up empty-handed. He really had smoked the entire pack.

"Hell..." Chibs muttered aloud, getting off the porch swing at long last, and realizing his legs had gone a little numb from sitting still for so long. He pushed open the door to the house and heard the water running in the bathroom, and knew that it was a screen to hide the fact she was crying. Whether Chibs had approved or not, Claire had already started picking up lessons from Gemma, and this was one; never let them see you bleed, and never let them see you cry, not when you could help it at least. Chibs strode down the hall, tapping lightly on the door. "Claire?"

"Don't tell me you expect me to go right this second." Claire's quiet voice bit out from the other side, a sniffle barely hidden under the sounds of running water, which shut off a moment later.

"No, sweetheart. Can I come in?"

"Door's open," Claire mumbled again. Chibs turned the knob and stepped into the bathroom, being hit with a wave of steam as it opened, obscuring the palm-tree themed wallpaper. Everything in her bathroom collection was tropical, from her shampoo right down to the pineapple plant she had been growing in the corner for the last six months. Everything in the house had become a fusion of their two personalities, a mixture of Claire's beloved antiques -all with a cabana/beach theme- and Chibs' collection of Harley paraphernalia and some SAMCRO custom stuff. Despite the complete contrast in their decorating preferences, it had ended up meshing quite well to feel very homey. Story of their relationship he supposed, and odd mix that for some reason worked out well. The bathroom wasn't something he had messed with though, that he had let Claire keep as beachy and classy as she wanted.

She was sitting at the edge of the tub, a wadded up towel in her hands. And though she looked like she was done crying, her eyes and cheeks were slightly red. Chibs sat on the toilet lid, and she stared at him blankly, cold fury he hadn't seen in a long time flaring in her pale-amber eyes.

"Ya really wanna stay here through this?"

"Yes."

"Yer not gonna change your mind on this, are ya?"

"Not on your life." Claire's eyes drifted over to the hair products sitting on the edge of the tub. "I don't want to be alone. I don't want to leave you, or anyone else I care about. And I want to be here for you if you need me, I'm supposed to take care of you too, remember? It's part of wearing the crow."

"I told ya I wasn't going to try and control ya, and I won't. Especially not if it means makin' ya hate me. But ya gotta promise me a couple things if ya stay."

"Like what?" She looked up, her eyes suddenly hopeful.

"Ya don't go anywhere alone. Anywhere. I want someone to be with ya at all times till we get the shit with the Lobos figured out."

"Okay."

"And if ya feel threatened, even a little bit, ya fuckin' call somebody. Me, Jax, Tig, I don't care. Someone ya trust."

"No cops, right?"

"Not if ya can help it."

"Alright. Just...trust me to know to know what I'm doing. I'm smart enough to know when I'm getting into something dangerous."

"I do trust ya sweetheart. But that's not gonna stop me from worrying."

"I know. I'll be okay." She gave him a small smile that looked a little weak, but it was genuine.

"And I know yer upset, but telling ya to leave wasn't about pushing ya away Claire."

"I know that too. But Sons of Anarchy is the closest thing I've ever had to a real family, and this family I don't want to run away from." Chibs reached across the space between them, laying his hand against her cheek, too late to wipe away the tears, but not too late to feel warmth in her skin. Never too late for that.

"Ya mean the world to me, ya know that? I love ya Claire."

She sat forward slightly, leaning her hands on the edge of the tub so her lips could reach his. "I love you too. And that's why I won't leave."

"Yer a damn stubborn woman sometimes."

"Yeah, well, I learn that sort of thing from Gemma," She laughed lightly, moving as though to lean back into the tub, and Chibs followed her motion, not quite done kissing her yet. She leaned a little more, smiling wider, and her arms curled around his neck. And suddenly the only thing that really mattered to Chibs was the fact that under Claire's bulky gray sweater she was wearing nothing but some very small pajama shorts.

She shivered when his hands slid under the worn yarn, his rings cold in contrast to her skin, but it was apparently a good shiver, because one of those breathy little moans slipped from her mouth against his, and her body was arching into his hands. Chibs lifted Claire from the edge of the bathtub, his arms around her waist, but it was her feet that started for the bedroom, pulling him along with her hands wound into his shirt.

"Claire."

"Hmm?" Her tone was inquisitive, but she her head was nuzzling against his throat, a warm little wet kiss landing at the base of his neck.

"If this shit does get worse, I want to at least move ya to the Clubhouse. Ya okay with that?"

"You would move with me, right?"

"Of course. Otherwise yu'd have ta beat Tig offa ya with a stick. I plan to protect these," His fingers dragged up her stomach, her sweater bunching up as he pushed it and squeezed those perfect, soft breasts lightly, and Claire made another little throaty groan. "And this." A hand slid down her torso, landing on her beautifully curved ass, giving another squeeze. "And most definitely this." This time his fingers pushed under the front of her loosely tied shorts, delving into a warm dampness between her thighs. Rather than a groan, Claire gave him a little gasp this time, her hips jutting forward, sliding farther onto his hand. He loved touching her, loved the way she responded so candidly, loved the way things were never boring between them. Claire always seemed ready to burst into flames at his touch.

She grabbed at him, pulling his head down so she could reach his mouth, practically shoving him into the hallway wall. This aggressive streak of hers was new, only breaking through her usual shy, gentle demeanor every once in awhile -and usually only after she had gotten off once or twice already- but when it did, Chibs only encouraged it, encouraged her to show him what she wanted, demand what she wanted. He peeled the sweater off her shoulders, its over-sized bulk slid down her body to the floor and she wiggled to step out of it, but couldn't quite seem to find her footing while Chibs' hand was still in her shorts stroking her.

He relented the teasing little touches, grabbing at the hem of the shorts instead to start pulling them off, and Claire's busy little fingers went straight for his belt, returning the coy little touch, cupping his erection as her hand slid past the zipper of his jeans. Her touch was light, almost tentative, and when he groaned her fingers started to retreat, as though worried she was doing something wrong. As if she could do anything that didn't make him hard. Or harder, in this case. Her confidence was obviously something they were going to need to work on a little more. He would have thought, by now, that Claire would recognize the effect she had on him, or at the very least, that she would be able to tell the difference between a bad groan and a good one. Claire's self-consciousness, while a terribly adorable part of her personality, was something Chibs would love to see, and perhaps help, her conquer. Eventually.

"Sweetheart, I think we've been through this enough times that ya oughta know ya don't need my fuckin' permission," He grinned against her lips. Claire flushed, more embarrassed by being embarrassed than anything else he supposed, but it hardly deterred her. They would talk about it, again, later.

Right now, his mind was on other things, namely that they had arrived in the bedroom, and Claire wasn't looking for a patient seduction, not tonight. He kicked out of his shoes, and Claire pushed gently at Chibs' chest until he sat on the bed, and rather surprised him by planting herself in his lap, her knees braced on the edge of the mattress, clutching at his shoulder with one hand to maintain balance while trying to, rather ineffectually, strip him down with the other. Maybe she was taking what he had said to heart.

"Want some help?" He asked, smiling slightly when she puffed a frustrated breath at being unable to undress him more fully in their current position, now with his hands planted firmly on her ass to keep her from falling.

"Just take your pants off."

"Patience is a virtue sweetheart," He chided, his tone teasing. But all the same, he held her tight to him and stood again, her legs hooking at the ankles behind him, and kicked the already slacking pants off out of the way. Chibs sat back on the corner of the bed, curious to see where Claire had been taking them before the interference of his pants. Her legs adjusted again, so that she was again propped on her knees over his legs, her head elevated above his enough that he had too look up at her. "Tell me what ya want."

She paused, was silent for a breath, then two. "Keep your hands where they are," She finally said, quietly, almost reservedly.

"No problems with that lovely," He answered, smirking up at her. Hell, he had a hard time keeping his hands off Claire's ass when she had clothes on, giving him free reign to grope while she was naked was hardly something he would argue with.

"Okay." She smiled a little bit, and then her demeanor shifted, just enough to notice. She wiggled her hips just a tad, as though trying to find a comfortable spot to put her weight, leaned forward slightly, her breasts pressing heavily into his chest, rubbing, almost like a cat, then slid her way back towards his knees her fingers dropping from his shoulder in a way that seemed almost casual, her fingertips just brushing the head of his cock. If Chibs hadn't known better, he would think that Claire really was trying to find the most comfortable way to sit, but the little seductive curve of her lips told him otherwise; each little brush was calculated, each movement was more than an accident. It was all a very subtle lap-dance, even the part where she arched her back elegantly to find the box of condoms always in the nightstand drawer, practically offering herself up to him.

"Yer a goddamn tease," Chibs accused, to which Claire gave a feminine little giggle, not even playing coy with him, looking amused that it had taken him that long. The idea not to play along and toss her on her back drifted through his mind, but Chibs figured that was the point, and that it would be much more fun to let Claire continue with her own plan. It was such a rare occurrence, and he was a more-than-willing participant in any experimenting she wanted to try. Just where was she going to take this?

He was _very _curious to know.

Again the fingers of one hand brushed him lightly, then more deliberately, stroking, and for a serious second, Chibs thought he might come in her hand. He had so little control when it came to Claire, half the time he was amazed she got off before he did. No woman had ever done what Claire did to him, much less inadvertently. His fingers dug into her ass, pulling her closer in a jerking motion, and Chibs buried his face in her glorious tits, trying to be gentle and not sure he was succeeding.

"Ya better hurry it along sweetheart, or this is gonna be a real short show," He said into her cleavage, biting lightly, just hard enough that he heard Claire let out one of her sexy little moans, her fingers tangling in the back of his hair.

"Give me a little room," She whispered in his ear, dipping her head down to kiss him, hurried, hard. He loosened his grip on her enough for Claire to slide back a little again, and with a painstakingly deliberate and slow manner, rolled the condom she had retrieved earlier over his erection. Then she sat up straighter, lifting herself off his lap, and gave her hips a jiggle, and held still for a moment long enough that Chibs started to protest again.

"Claire, for the love of God-" The rest of his statement was lost in the kiss she applied as she planted herself firmly down on him, burying his cock deep inside.

"Better?" She questioned, her voice somewhat coy, but mostly breathy from her own arousal.

"Much," It sounded more like a guttural moan, even in his own ears.

"Good. Let's not bring God to bed, hmm? A little too sinful for that, aren't we?" As she spoke, her hips gyrated slowly in a tiny circle; up and back, down and forward. It was literally taking all of Chibs' willpower to do as she had asked and leave his hands where they were. "Not that I mind sinning of course. It feels pretty damn good." A kiss landed on his neck, which turned into her tongue massaging the spot with enough tenderness that it almost seemed out of place.

He wanted to tell her that if it was pretty damn good for her, it had to be downright heavenly on his end, but he couldn't seem to find his voice beyond a groan here or there, which Claire seemed to recognize as encouragement.

She found a rhythm, dragged it on, and then accelerated the movement so suddenly Chibs was almost startled. Claire was practically slamming her hips into his, then suddenly she was arching her back and letting out a cry that seemed to echo, her entire body shaking in spasms. Chibs gave up keeping his hands where they were and grabbed Claire, kissing her fiercely, muffling her and himself.

He fell to his back, Claire going limp over him, her mouth curled in a satisfied smile.

"I forget that sometimes," She stated after a moment of them merely panting and enjoying the aftereffects of wondrous sex.

"What?" Chibs questioned, his eyes closed, though he wasn't yet ready to pass out on her.

"That I've actually gotten pretty good at this."

"Sweetheart, you've always been good at it. Real fuckin' good." He pulled her face toward him, his hand gently moving her jaw, kissing Claire firmly.

"I used to just lay back and let you take care of everything." She corrected in a rather prim fashion. "It's kinda...nice to repay you every once in awhile."

"Nice isn't the word I'd use." Chibs snickered.

"No. I'm sure you've got lots of better words." She shot back, rolling her eyes slightly, though she was smiling.

"Well, whatever word ya wanna apply, consider me yer willing victim any time ya feel like workin' off more of that debt."

"Ha! Because it was such torture, obviously," Claire snorted, pinching him on the ribs. He responded with a pinch to her rear, which brought a little surprised squeak out of Claire. That was about all it did though, she was otherwise perfectly content, cuddled up halfway over his chest, her head snuggling under his.

Chibs decided getting undressed the rest of the way wasn't worth asking her to get up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Baby, I'm Yours**

_Author's Note: Hey all. This chapter. Mm. Tough shit. :/ I would type a paragraph, delete it, try again, and repeat the process about four times. It still feels a bit...melodramatic perhaps? And repetitive, because I basically forgot how much violence happened in Season Four until I started writing this and had to fit it around every thing else that went wrong for SAMCRO. But this whole situation is a kind of important to...the rest of the storyline, so I couldn't really just take it out without overhauling the entire story. Which would probably mean I would never get it done. :) So please bear with me, I apologize if it gets a touch cliche. I did try to avoid that, but sometimes it just can't be helped neh? Constructive reviews please, if you dislike it. _

* * *

**Chapter 3: Strictly Business**

Claire felt dead on her feet. Practically sleepless -although incredibly sexy- nights and work the next morning obviously did not mix well. Chibs hadn't wanted her to come to work at all, and when she had disagreed, he had argued for another fifteen minutes about whether she was going to drive herself or not. Eventually, her argument that Ruth was with her all day and that she was in a fairly busy part of the city anyway won him over, and he had opted to let her drive herself, but had also decided that he would swing by and check on her every couple of hours.

Ruth asked several times whether she was alright, and every time Claire smiled and nodded and assured the older woman she was fine. Ruth had shown her distaste for the Sons of Anarchy, so Claire definitely didn't feel the need to inform her about the exact nature of her relationship with Chibs. A little dishonest of her perhaps, but it seemed easier to her than trying to explain that the Sons weren't so bad as Ruth's old-fashioned sensibilities led her to believe. Still, it likely wouldn't be a casual conversation if Claire were to explain that she was worried about her lover and most of her friends being killed in a drive-by shooting or something along those lines. No matter what he said to reassure her.

After another hour of wandering around rather aimlessly, too tired to pay much attention to anything, Ruth sent Claire on her lunch early, telling her to drink at least two cups of coffee before she came back. She wasn't too inclined to argue, she felt like she could use it. She headed down to the cafe she usually ate lunch at, ordering a sandwich and a latte, absently observing the traffic as it drifted by, her eyes instantly drawn to a colorful, low-riding pick-up coasting by, which was something you didn't see too much of in Charming. Harleys absolutely, but pimped-out trucks? Definitely not. It headed down the block and turned the corner, and Claire let it drift out of her mind. Cartels were coming to Charming these days for heaven's sake, why the hell was she surprised?

Forty-five minutes later, Claire walked back towards the library, but stopped short at the door. The truck was back. In the library parking lot. The driver was watching her with hard eyes, and it sent a chill up her spine that she figured would not be wise to ignore.

Feeling a little paranoid, she ducked through the door and flicked the lock closed, turning the sign so that it said closed. Ruth would be in the back working on book orders and the monthly newsletter until she took her own lunch, and the library was usually unoccupied until school was out and the students came by to study, so it shouldn't be a problem. She went straight to the desk and pulled her cellphone from her purse under the desk, dialing in Chibs' number with flying fingers.

He picked up in two. "Claire?" There was commotion in the background, but she could hear him reasonably clearly.

"Uhm...how busy are you?"

"Never too busy for ya. What do y'need lovely?" There was a hint of concern in his voice, obviously catching on to the nervousness she had tried to keep out of her own voice.

"I...uhm, I don't want to sound racist or anything," Not that it would bother Chibs if she did, "-but there's a Mexican guy I've never seen before outside the library. He hasn't come in or anything but...considering what happened to Tara...I'm kinda freaking out."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Chibs swore quietly. "Listen, sweetheart, don't fuckin' move till I get there, okay? I'm leavin' right now, don't open the door for anyone, fucking anyone, 'cept me or someone else with a patch."

"Okay."

"And keep the doors locked. I'll be there in ten minutes, go in the front and make sure he sees me, maybe he'll back off."

"If he...doesn't?" She asked hesitantly.

"Then I'm gonna shoot the bastard." Normally, the threat of violence didn't make Claire feel better, but in this particular situation, it did. "I'll be there soon. Stay safe till then lovely."

"Alright..." Chibs hung up, and Claire set the phone aside, nervously watching the door. So far there was nothing to make her suspicious, other than seeing the same car twice, and the fact that the driver had been looking at _her_, not the library, not a GPS, nothing but her. And it hadn't been a friendly or even a lecherous look; even after Claire had made eye-contact, he'd continued to stare, unblinkingly in her direction. It had made her feel very, very threatened. Not something she could call the police over, for sure, but she hadn't expected Chibs to drop everything and head her way either. A prospect perhaps, or telling her to call in sick and just avoid the guy maybe, but it made her more nervous to know Chibs thought this guy was a legitimate threat that he had to deal with personally.

A few minutes later, a black Harley swerved into the driveway, nearly skidding, and Claire wondered vaguely how many speed limits Chibs had broken on his way here. She slid off the stool behind the desk and unlocked the door for him, Chibs shooting a venomous glare at the truck in the parking lot while he sidled through the door, wrapping an arm around her waist and steering her away from the door. He didn't lock it again, which told her he was waiting to see what this guy did; waiting to see if he was really a threat. It also told her that Chibs planned to be here if he was.

"Y'okay?"

"Yeah. But jumpy. He's not one of the Cartel on your side, is he?"

"No. Ya did the right thing calling me." She headed back towards the desk, Chibs kept by her side, his hand curling over her hip in a possessive grip. "I'm not taking any chances after what happened to Tara." Letting her go once she was behind the desk, Chibs pulled a chair from the aisles, set it about three feet behind Claire and took a seat, intending, she supposed, to guard her.

"So...how is Tara?" Claire ventured, having not seen or heard any more information since the initial attack. She had been pretty worried about the woman who was becoming, basically, one of her family members. Until, of course, the pick-up had shown up in the parking lot, that had kinda distracted her.

"Better I think." Chibs answered slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But it was way too fuckin' close to home for all of us."

"Yeah," Claire nodded, solemnly. Claire sighed quietly to herself, wishing things would stop going to shit every time the Club got up and running again. At this point, all she really wanted to do was go home and hide.

"Don't suppose we could just go out the back way?" She questioned, settling back on her stool, turning so that she was facing him and leaning her elbows on the counter.

Chibs shook his head. "If ya disappear on him he'll just keep looking; these guys don't mess around sweetheart. He'll find ya again, when he thinks yer alone. And I'll not have that fucker turnin' up at our house in the middle of the night trying to hurt ya."

"Oh..."

"I'm not trying to scare ya," He added quickly, his face solemn. "I'm just telling ya the truth."

"I know." She fiddled with the book she had been reading on her desk. "It's just...I mean, do you plan to follow me around until he goes away?"

"More or less. I'll be with ya all day." Chibs slid her a sly little smirk which implied naughty things, and Claire was hard-pressed not to smile a little as well.

"I guess I won't mind having you at my beck and call the entire day," She said quietly after a moment's pause. He pointed a mock warning finger at her in response.

"I never said a damn thing about bein' yer cabana boy there sweetheart."

"And I never said anything about cabana boys." She smiled wider, swiveling her stool back around to face the front of the library. "But if you don't want me to blow you in the back room, that's fine." She heard a string of disgruntled expletives from Chibs and giggled a little, knowing full well he would give in long before she caved and she would probably end up being packed off to the aforementioned back room. Not that she would mind of course. Claire took a moment to congratulate herself, she was really starting to get the hang of flirting.

Okay, maybe not so much flirting and more knowing what it took to give Chibs a hard-on. Either way, it usually worked out in her favor.

Of course, in the back of her mind, she felt like she knew she was only trying to put off being nervous about the guy she could still see lingering in the parking lot from her perch on the stool. Or at least, his car was still there, she wasn't able to see whether the driver was still in it. Chibs' arms appeared on either side of her, bracing on the desk, Chibs leaning against her back, his chin on her shoulder.

"Whatcha reading?" He implored. It seemed he was also trying to distract her from the guy outside, who may or may not be there to hurt her.

"A book."

"I see that," He smirked at her smart reply, and turned the pages to an angle where he could read it better. "Jesus Christ Claire, I don't think I've ever seen the word cock so many times on one page. What the hell _are_ ya reading?"

"Well, you didn't ask what kind of book, did you?" She muttered, feeling a familiar embarrassed flush creeping it's way onto her cheeks. Why wasn't she over that yet? "It's a romance."

"Romance? Hell, this is porn sweetheart."

"Yeah, well. Where did you think I got my ideas?"

"Guess I hoped it had something to do with me." Chibs shrugged, chuckling into her hair and pushing the book away with his finger, nuzzling his face up against her neck. "Read it to me."

"You want me to read you Lora Leigh?" Claire questioned skeptically, not believing it for a second. Chibs had plenty of his own ideas, he certainly didn't need any encouragement from an erotica novelist. "Seriously?"

"Deadly sweetheart. I wanna see what ya find so fun about these dirty little books o' yers."

"They're just a way to kill time..."

"Would ya prefer I read to ya instead?" He asked, nipping at the nape of her neck gently, his tone was definitely bordering on conniving, and Claire was under the impression her reading would be the easy way out. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what the hard way out would be, considering she was still technically on the clock.

"Fine." She grumbled, picking up the book. "But if you start laughing I'll hurt you."

"Oh, trust me, I won't be laughing lovely."

Claire barely made it through three minutes of reading. By the time she had finished the page she had been on, she was no longer on her stool and was instead straddled over Chibs' knees, her once professional-length skirt up around her thighs. By the time she was on the next page, his hands were under her shirt and her bra was halfway off. At the third page the book was lying forgotten on the floor and her tongue was in his mouth, Chibs' cut down around his elbows and her fingers working on buttons.

She didn't realize she had completely forgotten where they were until a shriek alerted her to the fact Ruth had just walked in on them. Claire jerked back so fast she nearly fell off Chibs' lap, and only managed to maintain some degree of dignity because he caught her before she went sprawling onto the floor.

"Uhm...this is...uh...okay, so this is actually exactly what it looks like. Sorry..." She mumbled, the flush of embarrassment back with a vengeance. She scrambled to her feet, pulling at her shirt though she knew there was really no reason to worry about decency right now. She did manage to clip her bra back into place though.

"Claire, I think we need to have a serious talk." Ruth all but hissed, waving her back into the office. Claire glanced at Chibs apologetically, which caused Ruth to glare at him. "I think it's time for you to leave," She informed him.

"Don't mind me. I'm just reading," Chibs said candidly, reaching down and picking up the novel again, making a show of looking very interested in it. Then, with a completely straight face, his mouth not even twitching with a smile, he added: "Speaking of which sweetheart, there's a lot of hair-pulling in this. Are ya wanting me to try that next time?"

"Oh Jesus..." Unable to restrain it,Claire burst out laughing, caught somewhere between wanting to die from mortification and wanting to drag Chibs home to bed. She slapped a hand over her mouth when Ruth's glare shifted to her now, still giggling in a muffled fashion.

"Leave. Now." Ruth shot at Chibs, before turning and storming into her office, Claire strolling after her, wondering if she may have just lost her job.

"You want to explain yourself?" Ruth demanded, turning on Claire as soon as they were in the office.

"There's not really a lot to explain. We've been together for awhile."

"Excuse me?" Ruth seemed completely taken aback by this. Claire shrugged. Ruth had said she wanted an explanation, so Claire supposed there was no point in playing it coy.

"Me and Chibs. We live together. I'm his Old Lady. Which is not to be confused with being his wife, but it's the same basic idea." She felt and odd flash of pride at the declaration.

"Since when?"

"Pretty much since I moved to Charming I guess. Not the Old Lady part. That really only happened after I came back from Oregon last year."

Ruth crossed her arms, her weak eyes narrowing hard at Claire. "And I suppose you'll tell me you're the reason he's been hanging around so much lately."

"Usually Chibs is just...visiting. We got a little carried away today. I'm sorry."

"Okay, look, I can't tell you who to date, I'm not that old fashioned," Ruth began, though Claire almost wanted to scoff at the term 'dating,' they had bypassed that stage a long time ago, "-but I certainly don't approve. I don't want you bringing him here. I'm sorry, I don't want the Sons of Anarchy taking up residency in my library. I'm going on lunch, and I want him gone when I get back."

Claire fidgeted slightly. "Uhm...Ruth, can he stay today? Just today? I promise he won't be back, but I...I kinda can't be alone today."

Ruth's eyes widened slightly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just had a bad night, that's all." Not completely untrue, but definitely not the truth either. "Ruth, please. There's a lot going on right now and-"

"You mean his little gang is bringing shit down on you." Ruth muttered, and now Claire's eyes widened. She had never heard Ruth curse in the entire time she had worked at the library. "Forty-five minutes Claire, I want him gone when I get back from lunch. And I don't want him, or any of the other ones, in here anymore."

"I...okay. Okay. I'll tell Chibs." Ruth nodded and strode out of the library, Claire followed, standing in the doorway to the office, leaning on it slightly. Chibs had left his chair, and she could hear him arguing, likely on the phone, somewhere over in the back area of the library. Ruth left, and soon after, she heard Chibs cussing at someone over the phone before he re-appeared behind the desk, looking pissed. "Ruth said-"

"Fuck what Ruth said. Ya need to go."

"Go where?"

"The Clubhouse. I needja there. Right now."

"Why? What's happened now?"

"I need to go-" He stopped abruptly, looking livid, then started again. "-there's some shit going on with the Lobos, but I don't want ya being here alone while that asshole is still in the parking lot." Chibs jabbed his finger towards the door for emphasis. "If they're going after women, I need ya somewhere safe Claire."

"Um...okay..." Part of Claire knew that disappearing right now would certainly cause her to lose her job, but she judged by the look on Chibs' face that she was better off losing her job than she was staying and risking whatever could possibly happen. Not to mention he was making her very nervous, as agitated as he was. But what had happened? Not thirty minutes ago he hadn't wanted to chance leaving her alone. Was the Club in danger? Glancing at Chibs and seeing him circling her in an extremely volatile fashion, she decided those were questions that would have to wait a little while.

"Claire." She turned from gathering her things, Chibs striding over to her and taking her wrist lightly, before digging under his cut and placing a switchblade in her hand. "If that fucker in the parking lot comes in here, I want ya to use that."

"You want me to kill him?" Claire questioned skeptically, her voice almost cracking. She had never handled a knife -excepting kitchenware of course- and she had certainly never physically attacked anyone.

"No, not if ya can help it. If he's got a gun or somethin', don't let him know ya have the knife till he gets close enough to use it. If he tries to grab ya, I want ya to give him a good slice and run like fuckin' hell, ya understand?"

"Yeah." She nodded, her fingers curling around the knife tightly. "What if he does have a gun though?"

"Be smart, talk him down. And then run like fuckin' hell. I'm hoping he'll follow me, but ya better head out now in case he doesn't." He took her face lightly in his hands, looking her directly in the eyes. "I'm gonna lock the door behind me, but ya get to the first place ya can find with people if he starts following ya."

"Okay." The hand not holding the knife settled on his wrist. She was, admittedly, scared by all this, but she put on a brave little half-smile for Chibs' sake. "Don't worry. Running away isn't too hard. I can do this."

"I know ya can. Can't blame a fella for worrying though. I'll call ya as soon as I can."

"You be careful too, Chibs. I don't want to get a phone call asking me to come identify your corpse, okay?"

"Promise." He kissed her gently, but it lasted for several seconds. "Go on."

Claire stuffed the remaining things under the desk into her purse, and heard Chibs leave, the lock clicking closed behind him. What she would give to have a normal day once in awhile.

She headed for the back door and her car in the back lot, then froze dead in her tracks when the door opened long before she got there. She paused, her brain seizing up for moment, some small part of her hoping it was Ruth coming back early, but realizing that it was probably wishful thinking. A man stepped into the narrow back hallway, clothed all in black, a hood pulled up over his head. Claire wanted to scream, but all that escaped was a small noise that was a cross between a gasp and a squeak. Claire spun on her heel, fully planning to sprint for the front instead and praying that Chibs hadn't left yet, but before she had even taken a step she felt herself flung sideways, head and shoulder colliding with the wall with enough force that her vision exploded into stars.

Dizzy and slightly disoriented by the blow, Claire shook the hand that had grabbed her off, bumping into the wall slightly as she made an instinctive run for the front. She vaguely registered the sounds of Chibs' bike in the parking lot, as well as another engine, which she imagined was the truck. There were two of them, which meant Chibs would think she was safe. He would think she was alone.

_ Oh Christ. _Her fingers started to frantically dig in her skirt pocket, trying to get a firm hold on the knife, the guy in the hallway hauling Claire back towards him by the back of her shirt, cursing at her. Claire couldn't understand, she knew he was speaking Spanish, but her brain was so clouded with a mix of adrenaline and fear that she couldn't seem to translate what few words she recognized in her head. She didn't think she really wanted to know what he was saying anyway, as it all sounded very threatening. She finally got a hold of the knife, and said a moment of thanks Chibs had shown her how to open the damn thing a long time ago; the blade sprang free, and Claire stabbed out.

"Stupid whore!" He hissed, jumping back from her and letting her go. That, Claire had understood. The hallway was too narrow to get past him, so she turned and ran for the front again, clutching the bloody blade in one hand, and the strap of her purse in the other. He was on her in a matter of seconds, a heavy blow landing on the back of her head, knocking her to the ground.

Claire scrambled, panic exploding in her chest as her attacker grabbed hold of her ankles, clearly anticipating the kick she had aimed at him. She flailed her arms, reaching for the knife, but not entirely certain where it had skittered too when she fell. She had never been hit like that in her life; she wasn't even certain she had ever been threatened with such violence before. One ankle was freed as he reached up and grabbed her shoulder instead, yanking her up and around by her shirt -she heard fabric rip, but at the moment didn't really care- and hit her hard across the mouth. Stunned, Claire froze, the panic settling in her stomach, and changing now more to terror.

What was he going to do to her? Was she going to be able to get away?

Her hand continued to stretch behind her, making wide sweeps, searching for some sort of weapon, and she was given another hard blow, this time higher on her face, hard knuckles colliding with her cheekbone. Pain exploded in her face, and Claire felt as though he had literally managed to knock her eye out of the socket, her vision going suddenly blurry.

"This was supposed to be easy, you weren't supposed to fight," He was muttering to her now in heavily-accented English, tugging her back toward him by the already ripped shoulder of her shirt, "-but you wanted to do things the hard way, huh, little _puta?_"

The blood was pounding in Claire's ears, and she wasn't sure whether it was from one of the blows to her head, or just because her fear was making it impossible to hear anything else. One thing she did know however, was that her voice had found its way back to her. She let out the loudest scream she could muster, giving up momentarily on finding the knife, and reared up to hit him instead. Her nails raked along his cheek, payback for the bruise she was certain was forming on her own face, and though he bellowed at the pain, he didn't let her go as she had hoped, if anything, it had only served to make his grip on her tighten, slamming her to the floor, and another blow rained down on her, landing hard on her temple, then another whack across her mouth again.

"No more of that screaming shit." He hissed down at her, getting close enough to her face that Claire could smell the minty gum he was chewing. Odd time to notice something as futile as his fresh breath, but it was really the only thing Claire's muddled mind was still able to pick up on coherently; everything else was just sort of swirling around as her brain fought to cope with the pain she was feeling. He held her down now with his hand in the center of her chest, dangerously near her throat, and Claire got the feeling that if she gave him enough reason, he wouldn't hesitate to move that hand up a little further and choke the life out of her. Fear made her stay still, but panic and a will to live made her hands continue to search for the knife which she still believed was somewhere within reach. "You just have to give a message _puta, _this didn't have to get so ugly. Now we'll have to give the message to your big bad biker some other way, huh? Shouldn't have stabbed me, little bitch. Can't have you making anymore damn noise, can we?" She realized now that he was reaching to somewhere over to his left.

Her fingers found the handle of the switchblade at approximately the same time he found a handhold in a book from the shelf. He swung it at her, and the collision sounded like thunder in her skull, red and black and gray all mixed in her vision. She focused, tried to move, tried to push away the heavy blanket of unconsciousness trying to wrap around her.

"Just remember this is a warning. Make me come back, and I'll kill you and send your pretty little head to him."

She lost the fight.

* * *

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Chibs couldn't shake the feeling. Claire hadn't been at the Clubhouse. He had expected to find her tucked away in a quiet little corner somewhere, and after setting some things with Juice straight, he had gone to look for her. Only to hear that no one had seen her all day. Paranoia had gripped him, and was cemented when Gemma showed up beat all to hell. He hadn't hung around to demand who did it -he was sure to find out later- all he knew that too many women important to the Sons were getting hurt.

The speedometer didn't drop below eighty until he was in the driveway to the house, and then, his heart only accelerated as fear settled in. She wasn't here either. Not with Gemma, not at the Clubhouse, not home. Not answering her phone.

_Fuckin' hell. _Panic controlling his motions, Chibs swerved back out of the driveway and headed back for town, wondering -hoping- that perhaps she had been too scared to leave the library, and had camped out there instead. He was thinking of Kozik. How quickly and easily he had been taken off the face of the earth. And Chibs was praying with all his might that Claire wouldn't suffer the same fate.

When he saw the police cruisers and the caution tape surrounding the library, he felt the world abruptly crash down around him. He stopped dead in his tracks, only managing to get the kickstand down by sheer instinct, though he could care less if he laid the damn thing down right then.

"Claire!" He shoved past the uniform at the door, who made a half-assed effort to grab him as he ran by, shouting after him. "Claire!"

A book flew at him, Chibs stopping short to avoid getting it in the face, and focused in on Ruth, who had a another volley of a dictionary prepared, one of Roosevelt's deputies trying and failing to calm her.

"Look what you did!" Ruth accused shrilly, making Chibs balk. "I told her! I told her you were bad news! And look what happened!" The woman was practically hysterical, causing Chibs' brain to jump to the worst possible conclusion. His hand found a shelf, steadying himself.

"What happened to Claire?" He demanded, his voice low. "Where is she?"

"As if you didn't know!" Ruth was literally shrieking now, and the deputy was physically restraining her from marching over to him, though Chibs couldn't say whether it was for her protection or his. "She's in the hospital you bastard!" She threw another book, but Chibs could have kissed her.

The hospital. She was alive. Hurt most likely, but alive. He had turned and started back for the parking lot at a dead run before anyone else could say anything.

"Telford! Get back here!" The Deputy yelled, and the uniform tried to grab him again, Chibs only shoved his hand off, none too politely at that.

He had to see Claire. Now.

* * *

Claire's face felt puffy and sore, as if it was twice its normal size, and her mind was swimming around in a bit of a daze. It all felt sort of like when she had come home from having her wisdom teeth pulled, back in high school.

Pain meds. Maybe sedation, she vaguely remembered freaking out pretty bad when she had first regained consciousness. When she had at first come to in the hospital, she had broken down into a hysteric fit, fearing that perhaps she had been raped by her attacker, and it had taken awhile for the doctor to assure her that it wasn't true. What he _had _done was leave his message, a mark that might never go away.

Claire hadn't yet seen the wound her attacker had carved into her shoulder -the nurses had thought the trauma too fresh to risk showing it too her- but they had warned that it was likely going to be a permanent scar. When she thought about it, she was probably grateful to have been knocked out at the time, she didn't know if she would have been able to handle the mutilation while she was awake. Mentally or physically. She could feel a hint of the pain and stiffness under the bandages when she moved, and she knew exactly where the scar would be, what he had destroyed. She had gotten the exact place tattooed less than a month before.

She had to stop thinking about it. At least for now. The wound was too fresh, both figuratively and literally, for her to be able to deal with right now.

"Miss Reinhardt?" The door opened a hair, and Claire looked up to see sheriff Eli Roosevelt looking in cautiously. She was almost grateful for the distraction. "Are you feeling up to a few questions?"

"I'm lucid enough to talk, or so they tell me," Claire answered, pulling herself up into a better sitting position. She had known that this was inevitable, talking to the cops after Ruth had panicked and called an ambulance for her, but she had kind of been hoping to get in touch with someone in SAMCRO first. She wasn't sure how much she would be able to say. Claire also wished Unser was still police chief. She would have felt more comfortable talking to a friend than a guy who was a total stranger, who didn't understand the way things worked in Charming. Unser would have understood when she didn't tell him everything.

Roosevelt moved into the room and sat in the chair near the bed, a little notebook in his hand. The question he asked however, was something entirely unexpected. "So, you and Chibs huh?"

She shot the sheriff a confused look. "What about us?"

"The biker and the librarian. Bit of a mismatched pair. How exactly does that work?"

"It works out fine, not that it's any of your business." Claire was now getting a little annoyed. She was pretty sure she had heard all this before.

"Any fighting between you two?"

What felt like a lead weight settled in Claire's stomach. "Are you saying you think Chibs did this?"

Roosevelt gave a slightly exaggerated shrug, watching her intently. "What I'm saying is that Ruth Clarke reported that he was with you when she left, and when she came back you were laying on the floor beaten bloody, and a knife with his fingerprints was laying on the floor next to you."

"Chibs has never hit me." Claire said firmly, her voice shaking in sheer anger.

"There's a first time for everything."

She bristled. "Look,if you're not going to take this seriously then go ahead and leave."

"I'm taking this very seriously Miss Reinhardt. And right now Chibs is our best suspect."

"He shouldn't be a suspect," Claire snapped, feeling her hands balling into fists. Roosevelt simply looked at her neutrally.

"The mutilated crow tattoo says otherwise."

Claire flinched, and though she tried to keep it internal, she didn't doubt Roosevelt could tell he had hit a sore spot. Unwittingly, her fingers reached back, touching the corner of the gauze taped over her shoulder. But she took a breath, and steeled herself again. She figured she couldn't tell Roosevelt what little she knew, because it would probably give him more reason to suspect what SAMCRO was getting into. After all, why else would a Hispanic guy assault Claire out of the blue this way? It had to have something to do with the Cartels.

"It wasn't Chibs," She said quietly, looking at her hands. "If he did do this, do you seriously think he would be dumb enough to use a knife he packs around on a daily basis? And then leave it?"

"You tell me."

Claire shot a little glare in the sheriff's direction. "I was the one carrying the knife, it was for my protection. I stabbed the guy when he grabbed me."

"And if I bring Chibs in for questioning, I won't find any knife wounds on him, right?"

"Right. Because it wasn't him. He wasn't even there when it happened."

"Okay. And any...ideas who this mysterious guy is?"

"No. I was unconscious, remember?" Claire answered, wondering if the sheriff would sense the lie. It was mostly the truth anyway, she didn't really know much other than the fact the guy was probably associated with the Cartel; Claire wondered if she would even be able to recognize him if she saw him again. She glanced at Roosevelt from the corner of her eye, and found him to still be watching her with the same expression he had been wearing before. She was under the impression he thought everything she said was a lie, which made her feel better about not telling him the truth anyway.

At this point she really just wanted him to go away, she literally felt like she was hanging onto her calm demeanor by a thread. She needed him to go away, so she could deal with what happened to her, she had to deal with all the fact she was emotionally distraught, and realistically a bit traumatized, before she exploded and said something that was only going to make things harder, on her or SAMCRO.

"Do you know anything about him? Why he attacked you? About why he cut up your shoulder the way he did?"

"Regardless of what I say, you're going to think this has something to do with the Sons of Anarchy."

"And you're...what? The one "Old Lady" in the Club that's blissfully unaware of what they're doing?"

"As far as I know they're just mechanics who like motorcycles." Claire muttered, turning away from the sheriff.

At that, Roosevelt seemed to lose his patience, and he stood from the little plastic chair, actually leaning his hands on the edge of the thin hospital mattress. "You're willing to let this asshole get away? After this?" He waved a hand at her bruised face.

"I don't want to talk anymore."

"If you protect Chibs and the rest, I can't help you."

"Please leave me alone."

"Claire-" She glanced up at the first time he had used her first name, but they both paused and looked up at the door when it was thrown open, Chibs standing on the threshold, a nurse on his heels, attempting, ineffectually, to tell him he shouldn't be there. His eyes swept over the two, but held her gaze, equal parts regret and anger in his eyes.

"Mother of Christ. Claire..." He started towards her.

"We're not done here," Roosevelt said, more to Claire than Chibs, but the harsh tone was all the prompting Chibs needed to shake the nurse off his arm and insinuate himself between Claire and the sheriff, a hand on Roosevelt's shoulder, forcibly moving the other man back.

"I think ya are."

Great. Because this whole situation needed Chibs pushing the sheriff around to add to it.

"Chibs," She grabbed for his elbow, but he refused to budge, "Filip." Her grip tightened, and Chibs' hand covered hers, though he stayed rooted to the spot. Part of the calm she was so desperately hanging onto broke and she felt tears welling in her eyes. "Filip, please. Don't make it worse." He glanced at her, and his expression instantly became tender, before hardening again when he turned to Roosevelt.

"Yer done," He told Roosevelt firmly, and he looked damn good and ready to fight about it too.

"I guess so." Roosevelt practically snorted, as though more amused by Chibs' behavior than ticked off by it. "I've heard all I needed to anyway." The sheriff started toward the door, waving the nurse off as he left. "If you change your mind Miss Reinhardt, you know where I'll be."

He closed the door on the two of them, and Chibs instantly turned to her. "Jesus Christ sweetheart, what happened?" His hand reached out to her cheek, but paused when she flinched unintentionally. He seemed to understand, and touched her hair instead, then more gently, just his fingertips, the bandages taped onto her temple where the book had landed.

"They don't think anything is broken..." Claire said, after several long moments of silence. Her voice was wavering dangerously, but she tried to swallow it away and make it sound steady. "But I could have a skull fracture. The doctor said I would be heading up for x-rays, but that was like...an hour ago now."

"Shit, sweetheart, If I I'd known-" Claire shook her head slowly, even the small motion making her a little dizzy.

"You couldn't have."

"I shoulda stayed. I should have fuckin' stayed with ya." He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and again reached for her, but seemed too worried about hurting her to actually make contact. Chibs hunched his shoulders, his head resting on his hand. "Could ya tell me who did it?"

Claire shook her head again. "I didn't get a very good look at him. He just..." She trailed off, trying to force away the hysteria that so desperately wanted to overwhelm her, even though it was over. Or at least, the worst of it was. She hoped. "He said it was a warning. A message."

"He's not coming back. None of them are."

"How do you-"

"The fuckin' Lobos are dead Claire. If not all of 'em, enough that they aren't gonna come back to Charming." He was up off the bed suddenly, stalking across the floor of the tiny trauma-center room, and slapped his palm so viciously on the wall that it made Claire jump, which made the contusions on her face throb painfully. "And we couldn't have killed them two fucking hours earlier."

Claire was silent. The admission was a little difficult to hear, if only because she didn't want to be able to associate mass-murder with the man she loved. Remorse, however, was not an emotion she felt. Besides, she wasn't all that convinced that two hours would have prevented what had happened. If anything, she probably would have been dead. A revenge kill when they found out the rest of their mob was dead. She may not be a outlaw in her own right, but she had been around the Sons of Anarchy long enough that she knew the way of things; how the revenge cycle worked.

"I was an easy target," She said after nearly a minute of neither of them saying anything, neither sure where to go next. "I'm a librarian for God's sake. They probably figured if any of the women wouldn't pack a gun, it was me."

"Don't." Chibs' tone was warning, but somehow, still gentle. "This isn't yer fault Claire."

"I'm sorry..." The tears that had started earlier began now in earnest, and at this point, Claire was too tired to fight them. She wasn't sure whether she was apologizing for anything specific or just everything. "I don't know what I could have done. I don't know how I could have stopped him. I was scared, I was so fucking scared..." The words were spilling out, muffled here and there as she hauled in breaths that sounded more like sobs.

Chibs was back at her side in a matter of steps, taking both her hands when he didn't find any visible signs of damage there. "It's okay sweetheart. Yer alive. That's all that fucking matters to me." He pulled her hands toward him, kissing her knuckles.

"He cut up the crow."

Chibs went still. "What?"

"He cut up my fucking tattoo." Claire couldn't look at him. She stared straight down, feeling her shoulders shake, somehow terrified to see his reaction. But that was something she couldn't and wouldn't hide from him. She pulled her hands away from him when his grip slackened. "I'm sorry..." Somehow, it seemed like that was all there was to say, because Chibs still hadn't spoken.

Without a word, he stood, and Claire felt the distance all too acutely. Another sob lodged in her throat.

"How long are ya here?" Chibs asked suddenly, his voice sounding almost choked.

"I don't know."

"I'll wait."

"No." The look Chibs gave her at that cut Claire to the quick, but she only shook her head. It didn't hurt as bad as his abrupt distance did. A distance she wasn't sure how to interpret, which made it all the worse. She would rather have him all gone than just out of her reach. She couldn't fix the rift right now. She wasn't even sure what the hell to do with herself at the moment, let alone him. "Please go. I can't...I'm sorry..." Apologizing was all she could think of to do, but so far it hadn't proved very cathartic. Nor did it seem to be fixing anything.

Again, he was painfully silent, then came near enough to place a kiss on top of her head.

"I love ya." He said quietly in her ear, before turning to the door and leaving Claire to cry in peace as she had asked.

* * *

It hadn't been personal. It hadn't been about Claire. It hadn't even been about him. It had all been about sending a message to SAMCRO. And she had just been the convenient canvas.

Chibs was going to skin the fucker alive.

* * *

P.S. _I'm not actually a huge fan of Lora Leigh. I honestly don't think she's very good. But she was the first reasonably popular erotica novelist I could think of, so I used her so anyone who doesn't read in that genre could google her and get an idea of what sort of books Claire reads. :) Also, I realize there's a lot of violence towards women in this chapter. There's a lot of violence towards women in Season Four. My theory behind the attack on Claire is basically that, while the Lobos were not actually responsible for Gemma or Tara, they might be inspired by it. And because I think Claire would really seem like an easy target to at least intimidate. (I was having a hard time figuring out how I was going to justify/explain that without making a segment from like...one of the Lobos' point of view, but I wasn't really interested in opening that can of worms.) Yeah. I'm hoping everything will seem less convoluted in the next couple chapters. Please be patient with me. :) _


	4. Chapter 4

**Baby, I'm Yours**

_Author's Note: Hey all, I'm so so sorry this took me forever to put up. Basically, the flu has been going around hard core, and every time I turn around I'm being asked to cover for someone at work, and then I had a little trouble writing the end, and yeah. I'm sorry I left you all hanging in such an awful place as last time! Anyway, the title doesn't mean much of anything, it was just catchy, ahaha. Home is where the Harley is was the title of this for a little while, but since it's the sequel I decided I ought to use the sequel title. :) You know the drill!_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Home is Where the Harley Is**

It was just an X. A garish, bloody one, but still just a simple X. She had expected the scab on her shoulder to honestly be a little more impressive, considering all the trauma it had caused her before she had even seen the damn thing.

The edges of the tattoo still showed around the cuts, but the intended message came across loud and clear. Pity it was too late to make any difference to SAMCRO. The lines were thin and mostly even -probably due to the fact she had been prevented from struggling- and were still shallow enough that the damage was considered 'superficial' by the surgeon who had come by to look at it. Examining what had been done somehow made it less horrible. She wasn't mutilated or disfigured somehow, as she had first imagined, but the damage had been done all the same. It was the mental scar she was going to have to work on; the one that was telling her cutting the tattoo had somehow also cut the bond between herself and Chibs.

She sincerely hoped that wasn't the case.

After letting Claire silently ogle it for about a minute, the doctor cleared her throat, bringing Claire's attention in her direction. "It should be much less jagged after it has a little time to heal, but as I'm sure you've been informed, the scar will likely be permanent. We can make an appointment to consult with a plastic surgeon while you're here if you'd like."

"No, that's alright. I think I'd rather just get home. It's been...a long day." Claire pulled the hospital gown back together, fiddling with the ties.

"Of course." The doctor's voice held enough sympathy to make Claire feel as though she were a tiny, wounded kitten. She wasn't sure she liked the feeling. "Would you like me to call a ride for you?"

"No, thank you. I think I can manage it from here." Claire offered the doctor a smile, but wasn't sure how good a smile it was, considering her lips were still pretty swollen.

"Alright. Your prescription for antibiotics will be waiting for you at the front desk." The doctor excused herself, and Claire turned to her purse sitting on the counter, realizing suddenly that she had no clothes. The paramedics had thrown her bloody, torn shirt away, and her skirt seemed to have gotten lost somewhere between this room and the one she had been checked into upon arrival. She wondered if they had even bothered to keep track of her shoes.

"Great..." She sighed and began to dig through her bag for her phone. She needed to call Chibs, for more reasons than asking him to bring her clothes. Asking him to leave hadn't sat well with him, she knew that much for certain, and she really couldn't blame him. Now that she was calm enough to face reality, she was desperate to fix the rift. She just simply hadn't known how to deal with being so...broken other than being alone until she was prepared to deal with it on her own terms. Claire wouldn't let what had happened rule her, she wouldn't allow it to come between her and the Sons; but in the beginning, blaming them and their involvement with the Cartel had been an easy way to vent. And there was no way she had wanted to throw those sorts of accusations at Chibs. She knew, or hoped, that he would understand, once she explained it to him.

"You look like hell." A familiar voice from the doorway jibed. Claire turned, and felt her jaw drop open at the sight of a battered Gemma with a plastic bag in one hand.

"And we make a hell of a pair," Claire returned, feeling that she was gaping, but unable to stop. Gemma's face seemed almost as bad as her own, if a day or two older. "Did they attack you too?"

"They?" Gemma raised an eyebrow, walking into the room and setting the bag on the bed.

"Yeah. The Lobos..." When Gemma was quiet, crossing her arms and looking at her toes instead, Claire felt a hand find it's way to her mouth, but regretted the decision when she bumped a bruise. "You don't mean...Jesus, Gemma, did Clay do that to you?"

"It's nothing you need to worry about baby. Chibs seemed to think you'd rather I take you home, so I brought you some clothes-"

"What do you mean it's nothing to worry about? Gemma!" The older woman waved a hand at Claire in a way that said she was tired of the conversation, even though, as far as Claire was concerned, it had only just started. "Does Jax know? What's he going to do?"

"Of course he knows." This time, Gemma's voice was sharp, and Claire halted. It was one of those 'Club Business' moments. Meaning the women were not included in the decision.

Claire sent up a silent hope that Jax planned to at least beat Clay within an inch of his life.

She sat heavily in the chair nearby, looking at Gemma imploringly. "Where is this going? The Club, the Cartels, all this shit. Where does it go next Gemma? I'm getting sick of seeing people get hurt."

"I don't know yet baby." Gemma shook her head, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But we stick together through it. Understand?"

"Yeah. I understand." Claire sighed. That was the answer to everything. But sometimes 'sticking together' didn't fix things; sometimes it just buried the problems under the rug. That, and it seemed to Claire that things had already fallen pretty far afield.

"Good. Now maybe you'll want to talk about why Chibs seems to think you don't want him anywhere near you?"

"I never said-"

"You did tell him to leave." Gemma interrupted. "Do you blame him for what happened?"

"No. Of course not." Claire looked down with a frown. "If anyone's to blame, it's probably me."

"Right, because you marched down to goddamned Mexico and asked for it." Gemma snapped, sounding furious enough that Claire was slightly taken aback.

"Not like that. But...Chibs asked me to leave. Literally the night before. I wanted to stay, and I fought him on it. But he was right, wasn't he? I should have just left so I wasn't a goddamned sitting duck."

"You couldn't have known what would happen. Besides, honey, you're not just some chick he can drop off somewhere when it gets inconvenient. That really wasn't fair."

"That's what I thought...but..." Claire trailed off, not looking at Gemma, but out into the parking lot through the window. "But I didn't trust Chibs."

The older woman crossed her arms, giving Claire a strange side-long glance. "Meaning?"

"When he told me he wanted me to leave, the first thing that flew into my head was that I didn't want to be another Fiona. I didn't want to get left behind and...and have him find another home-wrecker or something." Claire felt her hands clutching the edges of the chair so tightly it was beginning to hurt. "I couldn't even have enough faith in Chibs to believe he was only trying to protect me." Claire heard the click of Gemma's heels on the floor, and she glanced up to see the matriarch's dark eyes flashing back at her in fury.

"I would slap you, but I can't when you look so damned pathetic." She informed grudgingly, putting her hands on her hips instead.

"Pathetic is a good word." Claire acquiesced, frowning and looking at the floor again. It was so much easier to look at the floor than at Gemma, who, compared to Claire, was the epitome of a strong woman. She had clearly taken a beating as bad as Claire had, but she wasn't wilting under the pain the way Claire was certain she would. If she hadn't already.

"No. It's not. This doesn't make you weak." Gemma grabbed Claire's shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Pulling through this is what makes you strong. And don't you dare think it will make Chibs love you any less. He just needs you to tell him that everything is still okay between you."

"I just...I thought he would be angry..." Claire tried to explain, but for some reason, just felt like she had been stupid to assume such a thing. Probably because she should have known better.

"Go see him. Ask him if he is."

"Is he home?"

"Not right now." Gemma's voice had gone gentle again. "He's with Jax, they're working some shit out with the Irish. But he will be tonight. I'll make sure he goes home."

Claire nodded, feeling a salty lump of tears forming in throat, and not entirely sure why. "Okay. Thanks Gemma."

"Good." Gemma smiled, seeming pleased Claire had agreed. "Now get changed, I'm here to pick up Tara, but I figured you would use a ride too."

"Hm. All the wounded women bonding together, huh?"

"Like I said. We stick together sweetheart." Gemma smiled and laid a little kiss on Claire's unbruised temple. "Get dressed and I'll take you home baby."

Claire nodded, and reached for the bag Gemma had brought, while Gemma headed for the hallway, presumably to go retrieve Tara.

Underwear, jeans, and a pull-over sweatshirt, which Claire was especially grateful for. She wasn't so sure she was ready to go out and about with a giant wad of gauze stuck to her shoulder. That was sure to raise questions she wasn't ready to answer yet. Though her bruised face was just as likely to do that she supposed, but so would walking out with a sheet over her head or something of the like, so she would just have to make due.

Claire dressed and headed for the main lobby, picking up a prescription for antibiotics for the cuts, and written instructions for vitamin E oil which would supposedly help with the scar once the scab healed. She found Gemma waiting outside, smoking a cigarette, but with no Tara in sight.

"Did they decide not to release Tara?"

"No, she...she thought that since I was taking you home she would ride with Phil instead."

"Oh. I see." Claire nodded in agreement, though the hesitation in the middle made her suspect that Gemma was lying to her. She knew things had been a little tense on the Teller-Morrow home front, but not between Gemma and Tara. Inwardly, it made Claire sigh. It seemed like everything was on its way to falling apart these days. At least, for Sons of Anarchy it seemed to be.

Still, she chose not to voice any of this to the resident matriarch, and followed Gemma to the Escalade, climbing into the passenger side. Gemma started the SUV and turned onto the main road, heading out to Westerfeld.

"Oh, by the way, I thought you might need these." Gemma reached into her purse, pulling out a plastic sandwich bag with what appeared to approximately six hand-rolled cigarettes in it. Of course, Claire wasn't naïve enough to think Gemma was handing her just plain old tobacco cigarettes.

"Why? I don't smoke."

"Trust me, you'll start when the hospital pain meds wear off. One of those and an Ibuprofen work wonders for bruises."

"Oh. Well, thanks." Claire tucked the baggie into her own purse, not entirely convinced she wanted the weed, but figuring it would be rude to turn it down.

"Will you be okay out here by yourself or should I send Rat out to keep you company?" Gemma asked after a few moments of silence, save for the radio. Her tone was cautious, as though worried Claire would genuinely freak out at being alone. She supposed she could understand why.

"No, I...I think I'll be fine if all the doors are locked and stuff. I kinda just plan to curl up and take a nap on the couch for now anyway." She had been in the hospital overnight while they examined her for any serious damage to her skull, and fearing a concussion, hadn't let her sleep more than a couple hours at a time. And then the doctor had opted to keep her most of the morning and afternoon the next day to run various tests to make sure the cuts hadn't been infected, caused muscle damage, or contracted any blood-borne pathogens. All of which Claire was basically grateful for, but she was also really, really tired.

Gemma pulled into the driveway, and Claire noticed her car was nowhere in sight. Probably still at the library; she would worry about it later.

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the ride Gemma, I really appreciate it. And...and I will talk to Chibs."

"I know you will baby." Gemma smiled, waved slightly to Claire, and turned her SUV back out to the road.

The first thing Claire noticed upon entering her house was that Chibs had definitely been there. And had thrown a couple things if the scattered books and papers were any indication. She hadn't realized how upset he had been, and she still didn't know how to fix it. She picked up a few of the books, mostly just making a path through the short front hall to the couch, which looked far too inviting for Claire to pass up much longer.

She set the gathered books on the coffee table curled up with the throw pillow, at first having a hard time finding a way to lay down which didn't agitate either a bruise or the cuts on her shoulder. Finally finding it involved propping most of her weight on her unwounded shoulder and lying on her back, Claire gazed at the ceiling tiredly, and wondering just what in the world she was supposed to say to Chibs in this situation. Being and Old Lady didn't exactly come with a handbook, and at times like these, she really wished it did.

* * *

Fragrant smoke woke Claire what felt like minutes later. She hadn't been aware of drifting off, but the house was dark except for the side-table lamp casting a weak glow through the living room. Her shoulder felt stiff and sore, and the bruises were likewise aching to remind her they were there. A blanket had been draped over her carefully, and she knew instantly that Chibs was home.

He was sitting on the floor next to the couch, leaning back against it so that his head was approximately level with her chest. Chibs appeared to the source of the smoke, and she saw the bag Gemma had given her lying open on the coffee table. How long had he been there? Was he waiting for her to wake up? Or had he been just as lost as she on what to say and was trying to think it through?

"Chibs?" He started, apparently not expecting her voice, but he looked over his shoulder at her to offer a wan smile.

"Didn't want ta wake ya sweetheart."

"I think I would have been fine. It was light outside when I laid down."

"I didn't know." He shrugged. "I didn't know when ya'd get home."

Claire hiked herself up into a slouching sitting position, wincing slightly. Maybe she was just tired, but her whole body felt like it had been through the wringer. Wordlessly, Chibs passed her the joint. Claire took it, but hesitantly. She hadn't smoked since she had been in that experimental stage in high school, and she hadn't been all that into it then. Of course, she also hadn't had the crap beaten out of her recently at the time. It wasn't like it was going to make it any worse.

Other than that sad little smile, Chibs had yet to look at her. Which she could understand, she knew she looked like hell, and she had, basically, done nothing but push him away since she had been hurt in the first place. He probably didn't know what she wanted, and was worried she would only put a wall up again.

"I'm sorry about...about yesterday. I was having a little...a lot of trouble holding it together. I didn't want you to see me that way," Claire finally ventured quietly, around a little puff of smoke. She was going to keep it small until she knew she was used to it again. It had been a few years, to put it mildly.

"It's okay sweetheart."

"It's not. I was upset and I was being unreasonable."

"Can't say ya didn't have a right to be." Chibs turned to her now, and again he tried to smile, but instead just looked sad. "How do ya feel?"

"Honestly, like shit." Claire shrugged her good shoulder with a weak smile of her own, and slid her legs off the couch next to Chibs, to stub what was left of the weed out in the potted hibiscus she had been trying to grow on the side table. "But I'll heal."

In response, Chibs suddenly pitched forward, leaning his weight against her legs and burying his head in her lap.

"Jesus, Claire, tell me how to fix this." His hand curled over her knee in a way that seemed almost desperate, as if he couldn't stay upright without the help.

"Fix...? Chibs, this isn't something you can just 'fix' overnight. I'll be okay, I need time to heal, that's all." Trying to comfort him, Claire's hands settled lightly on Chibs' shoulders. Petting, patting, trying to reassure. "The bruises will go away and the scar will heal and I'll be fine." Her fingers threaded into the back of his hair, quiet for a long time.

"I thought ya would blame me...hate me. I dunno."

"I was upset yesterday. But I wasn't blaming you, I was blaming me."

"The hell for?" Chibs jerked up, sitting back and staring at her indignantly.

"Same reason I guess. I thought you would be angry with me for not listening to you in the first place. And for...throwing what happened with Fiona in your face. That was kind of a low-blow, even I know that."

"I was the one who went and fell in love with ya. What happened between me and Fiona wasn't yer fault," Chibs said firmly, his hand giving her knee a little squeeze, "-and neither was this. But it still never woulda happened if we hadn't started messing with the Cartels."

"And that's just it. If I'm going to blame anyone, it won't be you. It would be the Cartel."

At this, Chibs' expression changed. Something darker, angrier. Then he was abruptly up on his feet. "I'm gonna find the guy and I'm going to fucking kill him."

Claire balked, unsure of what to say. She supposed she honestly had expected this reaction from Chibs, but that didn't exactly make her any more prepared to know what to say in response.

All that left her was a rather quiet, almost meek: "Don't."

"What?" Chibs looked at her in a disbelieving fashion, as though not convinced he had heard her right.

"No more violence Chibs, please. Hasn't there been enough? Haven't enough people been hurt and killed?"

"You expect me to let the guy who did..." He gestured in her direction, apparently having trouble finding the words, "-_that_ to ya get away with it?"

"What good is you killing anyone going to do now?" Claire demanded, her voice still quiet despite the firm tone. "It's only going to mean there's another body to add to the list the Sons have wracked up, and one the cops could tie directly to you if they ever found out. It's not going to make the scar go away or the bruises heal any faster. It's just revenge."

"What do ya want me to do then?" His voice sounded almost mocking with the question. Claire frowned, but looked at her hands.

"I'm tired of seeing people be hurt Chibs. It has to stop, because if it doesn't it just means more of this. I don't care what happens to the guy who did this to me."

"I care-"

"I don't want to be responsible for someone's death!" Claire interrupted, her voice only a hair short of breaking. Chibs seemed taken aback, literally rocking back on his heels slightly. Evidently the idea that _she _might feel guilty hadn't yet crossed his mind.

"Sweetheart, no one would blame ya."

"But I'd still be the reason. I'm sorry, but I don't want that on my conscience. No more killing, please. Not now." She looked up at him, perhaps pleading. She had never wanted to be able to picture him a killer, though she had quickly learned to accept that killing was part of who Chibs was; especially insofar as SAMCRO went. She knew the kinds of things he, or any one of the Sons, was capable of when the Club was threatened, and she knew that he could take it to a whole new level if it became personal, which this so obviously had. She knew this, she accepted it, but it didn't make her like it, nor did it make her want to encourage it, even if it was, in a way, for herself.

Completely to her surprise however, Chibs gentled as quickly as he had become angry. His frown softened, if only slightly, and he reached out for her, threading his fingers as gently as he could through her hair, framing her face.

"Alright." He said simply. "Not now. But if ya change yer mind, and ya decide he deserves to die, ya let me know. He'll be dead."

"You're missing the point Chibs, I don't want to see _anyone _get killed."

"I know." Chibs sighed, and gave her another one of the sad smiles. "Yer too damn good for this life."

Claire was silent. Is that what he thought? That she was too nice? Too gentle? Too good for his life, too good for him?

And why did that sound so much like an insult?

"Chibs, are we going to be okay?"

He gave her a confused look now. "How do ya mean?"

"I mean...I..."She trailed off, really not certain what words she was looking for. She wanted to say that she wasn't too good for the life, but she knew that in a lot of ways, she was. Not just in his eyes, but everyone's; the sheriff and Ruth wondered what the hell she was doing with Chibs, and her brother and Mother had refused to even acknowledge his existence in her life so far. She had never even had a parking ticket, the idea of death made her squeamish, and the only reason she had helped out the gun-running had been to, in some warped way, prove herself worthy of being an Old Lady, but that title was still really in name only. The fact of the matter was, she would rather stay out of the Club business altogether. They were, simply put, a ridiculous match, but Claire had already learned that very little could possibly make her stop loving Chibs, let alone their polar opposite standings in the eyes of the legal system.

But when he worded it like that, she couldn't help but feel that she was somehow still horribly out of place in the world. As though despite all this time, and all the truths he had told her, that she still didn't know certain things about him, things Chibs wanted to keep hidden. Even from her.

"Claire?" She realized suddenly that Chibs was still waiting for an answer, and she had been staring into space for the last few moments.

"Sorry." She shook her head, deciding that if she was still trying to organize her thoughts on the subject, it wasn't really the time to bring them up. "I guess I'm just a little worried about what's going to happen now. I mean, I think Ruth kinda...accused you of being the one who uhm...hurt me. And I don't know how that's going to work out yet...do you think I should go to the police station and withdraw my statement or something?"

"Didja make a statement?" Serious Chibs was back, his hands letting go of her. Though he did finally join her on the couch.

"Not really. Roosevelt asked me a few questions...most of which I just said no to. But I still don't want him to try and arrest you for something you didn't do..."

"Ah, let the bastard run in circles. No sense in making his job easy." Chibs shrugged.

"But what if he tries to arrest you?" Claire persisted. "That's just going to make a lot of trouble for SAMCRO, isn't it?"

"And if ya tell him the truth, he's gonna have a reason to start watching for Mexican guys. Which isn't really gonna help us help the Cartel."

"I guess." Claire sat back, realizing that was true. It had occurred to her in the hospital that that might be the case, but the idea of half the town thinking Chibs had beat the shit out of her didn't sit well either. "Can't I just tell him it was a white guy or something? Or refuse to press charges?"

"And if ya lie, ya get charged with obstruction."

Frustrated, Claire puffed out an annoyed little breath. "I'm only trying to help."

"I know ya are sweetheart," Chibs said gently, laying a light kiss on her unbruised temple, "-and I appreciate it. But at this point, I think I'd rather see ya heal a little before ya get caught up in anything else."

"About that...uhm, did they tell you the scar on my shoulder will probably be...permanent? I mean, they said I could talk to a plastic surgeon to make it less obvious, but the it's never going to go totally away, and the tattoo-"

"The tattoo isn't that important."

"But it's-"

"It's not like it was the only the only thing that made ya my Old Lady Claire."

"Oh..." Claire drifted off again for a moment. He had hit the nail on the head with that statement, knowing exactly what she had been inherently fearing. She wondered whether it was because she was more transparent than she thought, or because Chibs just knew her that well.

"I'm the last one to have anything bad to say about scars, considering mine don't seem to turn ya off any," He patted his cheek for emphasis, "-and I hardly think it's gonna make ya any less pretty. The fact that ya made it through that and that yer still here is all I care about sweetheart."

"Thank you," Claire finally said, after a pause of quiet, "-I think I...I think I needed to hear that." She smiled.

"Any time ya wanna hear it." Chibs grinned back, genuinely seeming to mean it this time.

* * *

_I guess I should be grateful no one towed my car._ Claire thought bitterly, yanking approximately three parking tickets out from under the windshield wiper of her Jetta. So much for her spotless record. _Maybe if I call them and say I've been in the hospital or home covered in bruises the last few days they'll forgive me. _

Annoyed, but without much else to do with the scraps of paper, Claire stuffed them into her purse haphazardly and opened the door, sliding into the driver's seat. Realistically, she supposed she could have asked Chibs or someone to come pick it up, but it hadn't really crossed her mind until yesterday that she had sort of accidentally abandoned the poor Jetta in the back lot. Gemma, luckily had been kind enough to give her a lift to the library, considering her helmet still hurt to wear and Chibs hadn't been able to borrow the tow truck.

Instead of heading straight back home to smoke more weed and pop more ibuprofen for her sore face however, which was basically all Chibs allowed her to do in his presence -he hadn't even let her into the kitchen to make her own food, insisting he do it for her while she relaxed- she turned the car toward the Police Station.

No matter what Chibs said, she knew this would blow back on the Sons somehow if she left everything unanswered the way she was, because Roosevelt was sure to start nosing around and find a connection between SAMCRO's current business ventures and what had happened to her. The sheriff needed some answers, and she was going to make sure he got ones that had nothing to do with anything. Obstruction wouldn't matter if she was never caught, right? She just really hoped she was never caught.

If all else failed, she could always claim the bump on the head with a book had caused amnesia or something.

She parked her car across the street from the station, and hustled inside, aware of the stares she was drawing. The swelling had gone completely down, and the bruises had faded from dark blue to purplish-red, but it was still pretty obvious she had been assaulted recently. Gripping the strap of her purse tightly to her chest, Claire approached the front desk and asked for the sheriff. She was asked to wait, after a skeptical look from the deputy at the desk.

She took a seat in one of the plastic chairs, flipping absently through a magazine that was about five years out of date and missing half the pages.

"And judging by the bruises, you must be Miss Claire Reinhardt."

She glanced up at the voice that didn't belong to the sheriff, and found a very skinny brown-haired man standing nearby. Almost close enough to make her uncomfortable. "Er...yes. I'm Claire."

"I know. My name is Lincoln Potter, I work with sheriff Roosevelt. Perhaps I can assist you."

"I just needed to report some things that I remembered. About the guy who attacked me."

"Did you now?" His mouth quirked up slightly in the corner, and it gave Claire a little chill. Something about this guy totally creeped her out. She wondered if she ought to decline and wait for the sheriff, but, before she could open her mouth open to say so, she found herself rather forcefully escorted to a very small small interview room. She felt more like a criminal than a victim, especially when Lincoln Potter, or so he claimed, closed the door and blinds behind him.

He offered her a seat, but Claire declined, preferring to stand warily by the door. "What exactly do you do for the sheriff?" She questioned, her tone carefully neutral.

"I'm an ADA. Trust me Miss Reinhardt, I can help you as well as the sheriff can. Maybe better."

_An ADA in charming? That's new. _Claire thought. She hadn't really pegged this fellow as law enforcement, but if he was in legal side, that seemed more likely. Still, would she get in more trouble if she lied to an assistant district attorney? _Well, if I'm going to lie anyway, I might as well go all in..._ Besides, if she got Potter to believe her, the sheriff would have to drop the assault charges against Chibs. Since Roosevelt hadn't bothered to listen to her when she told him he was wrong.

The ADA retrieved a slip of paper from a filing cabinet opposite the door and sat at the table across from where Claire stood.

"Tell me what you remember."

"Well, there was this guy who had been hanging around the library most of the morning, I had never seen him before and he made me kind of nervous." Claire surprised herself, she was speaking with much more conviction than she had been able to muster when she had decided to spin this story. "He was making me really nervous, because he had been wandering around in the neighborhood most of the morning. So I called Chibs and asked him to come stay with me for a little while, just so I felt safe."

"You didn't think calling the police would be wise?" Potter interjected. She noticed he hadn't written much down, if anything at all, in his little folder.

"I didn't think I needed them at that point. He was creepy, but I didn't think the guy was a threat yet. I honestly expected Chibs would scare him off."

"But I'm assuming he didn't."

"No. Chibs had to leave-"

"Why?" Thus far, this was the only part of the story that appeared to have piqued Potter's interest.

"Ruth kicked him out." Claire informed bluntly, knowing that he wasn't likely to buy the idea of a sixty-five year old one-hundred and ten-pound woman scaring Chibs off, but it was close enough to the truth that she didn't feel entirely guilty saying so. "I asked Chibs to leave the knife with me because I was still a little nervous, and when Ruth went to lunch, the guy who had been wandering around all morning came in. At first he just hung around the shelves a little bit, but when I asked him to leave, he freaked. He hit me with a book and I'm sure you an guess what happens from there."

"But why did he attack you so violently? And why would a complete stranger leave such a...meaningful mark?"

"Ask him when you catch him." Again, the firmness in her voice belied the quaking sense of nervousness roiling her stomach. He knew she was lying. But why was he still listening? Was he waiting for her to dig herself into some kind of hole? She decided, then, that it would be wise not to say anything further until she knew what he was going to do with her story.

"And I don't suppose you can describe our...mystery assailant? Or will we be looking for the Uni-bomber?"

As tempted as Claire was to return with a rude remark, she opted to instead to carry on. "Short, only a little taller than me. White, and not quite a beard, but he definitely hadn't shaved in a day or two. Green eyes, and really, really strung-out looking. Which is probably why he freaked out."

"I see." Having written only a few sentences down, Potter closed the folder that had been laying rather neglected for the entire interview. "I suppose now that you've remembered your real attacker, and there was no physical evidence, you'll want the investigation against Mr. Telford dropped?"

"It would be appreciated, yes."

"I'll let Eli know. We'll start looking for your...mysterious attacker as soon as possible."

"Thank you." Claire nodded, though she was pretty sure they both knew they were just going through obligatory bullshit standard procedures. When he said nothing further, she reached for the door knob. "I'll just let myself out then. I wouldn't want to keep you from any important work."

"May I ask you a personal question before you go?"

"I'd prefer you didn't, but I get the feeling you will anyway." He gave her another of the weird little half smirks which made her thoroughly uncomfortable. There was just something about this Lincoln Potter guy that really made her feel weird about being alone with him.

"What is it that makes you loyal to the Sons of Anarchy?"

"Me specifically?" He nodded. "Love."

"Love?" The ADA's tone was neutral, but his eyebrows both raised with a hint of skepticism.

"Yeah. Love. Ask any of the women, that's probably the answer you would get. We love our men."

"And you protect them." He was digging now, she knew. Hoping to find a reason to cast doubt on her story.

"We take care of them," She corrected. "Thanks for your time, I hope you catch the bastard that did this."

And with that, Claire walked away

* * *

_Author's addendum: Well, a nice little episode of Claire taking charge. :) Anyway, I was also wanting to let folks know that I haven't really been able to get in touch with Roman Lizzy, who used to do all my beta reading. Therefore, I was wondering if anyone else would want to be recruited. I don't like using the Beta reader search, because I feel that they would be more likely to actually want to read it if they volunteered. :) I've just been noticing a few places where I forget what I'm saying or something along those lines. :) _


	5. Chapter 5

**Baby, I'm Yours**

_Author's Note: This is a bit short, I'm not certain why. I just kinda wrote myself into a corner I suppose. Either way, yay, Season 4 is done! This means it's on to 5, which, while also being rather depressing, has honestly been one of my favorites so far. Should be fun, and the ideas I have are, in my opinion, going to be entertaining. Especially as they pertain to Claire really starting to blossom in her new life. _

* * *

**Chapter 5: Charming Town**

She hadn't been there when Chibs crashed on the couch for a quick cat-nap. Nor had she informed him of where she was going, by note or phone call, when he returned to the house to find her gone. Claire was doing that a lot lately; it wasn't that she was distant with him exactly, he got the impression that half the time she didn't know what she was about either. That, or she was going a little stir-crazy.

Ruth's official words had been that Claire should take as much time off as she needed, what she had meant, of course, was that she wanted Claire to take enough time off that the bruises healed. They had, though there was still a bit of evidence of the bruising, a yellowish tint in her skin, it was an easy cover-up. That said, she hadn't returned to work yet, and had spent most of her new spare time doing this wandering business; sometimes asking he take her for a ride. Just a ride, not to anywhere in particular. He couldn't remember her ever asking that before, ever wanting it.

Chibs hadn't been sure what to say to any of this, so had settled for patiently waiting for her to tell him what she wanted him to know.

Somewhere in his half-an-hour sleep, Claire had turned up in the armchair from wherever she had been, a book in her hands, but she was staring out the window instead.

"Whatcha doing lovely?"

Not seeming to notice the greeting, she asked: "Why didn't you tell me Clay had been shot?"

"Ya weren't here to tell." He shrugged simply. "And ya didn't answer yer phone. I did call ya."

"Oh." She looked down at the book in a manner that seemed almost confused. "I don't think I took it with me. Sorry."

"How'd ya find out about Clay?"

"I ran into Gemma while I was in town." She shrugged, picking absently at the pages of the book in her lap. "Was it Jax?"

"No. I don't think so." Chibs shook his head. Jax hated Clay, no question of that, but he didn't think he would shoot him. Not yet anyway. And he certainly wouldn't have taken him to a hospital afterward. "He said it was black. Probably the Niners."

"Oh for Christ's sake..." Claire's head sank into her hands, her fingers pushing her hair towards the crown of her head. She let out a bitter little laugh. "Is there anyone out there who doesn't want to kill you guys right now?"

"A few I imagine." Chibs shrugged again. She frowned at that, indicating, he supposed, that she didn't appreciate the flippant tone.

"This isn't something to joke about Chibs. Miles is dead, Juice tried to kill himself, Kozik is dead, Piney is dead, and Clay might as well be. Things aren't looking so great for anyone wearing a cut right now." Claire dug her hands through her hair, combing it back with her fingers. "I miss when you were just a gunrunner and I only had to worry about you not getting caught by the local PD."

"I don't know if it was ever _that _innocent sweetheart."

"I know. It just...seems like it was easier, looking back now." Unable to come up with some comforting words, Chibs held his arms open to her, and Claire responded in kind, leaving the chair to curl up tucked against his side, her arms latching around his neck.

"Things are gonna change-"

"That's what you keep saying."

"I mean it. Clay's out now. Probably fer good. I don't even know if he's gonna come back to Club at all. But that makes Jax president now, which means things really will this time" Chibs' hand trailed up and down her spine as he spoke, pausing ever so slightly when his fingers brushed the edges of the gauze pad taped onto her shoulder. The X-shaped scar had healed almost as well as the bruises had, still scabbed in most places, but it no longer required the bandages. She still wore them, hiding it he guessed, though he wasn't sure from whom exactly.

He had thought, back when Jimmy had been the first to threaten her directly, that after that, he would be prepared for anything that might try to hurt Claire. So far though, the Cartel had proven to be an entirely different monster, and had gotten right to her. She had suffered because of the Club. He hated the fact. He didn't want to watch his life destroy Claire, and the way things were going, he knew that would be the inevitable outcome. No matter how strong she had proven herself, it was obvious damage had been done, and he didn't know whether it was fixable.

All this aside, Chibs was finding himself getting rather sick of telling her everything would be alright when he didn't know whether he believed it himself, it was getting hard to make promises that he wasn't sure he could keep.

Claire's arms tightened around his neck suddenly, causing Chibs to glance down at her "Is this going to kill you?" She questioned, her voice quiet.

"Sweetheart, I've lived through a helluva lot. It's gonna take more'n these little Mexican bastards to put me in my grave." Chibs assured, tightening his arm around her and pulling her in tight.

"I'm scared," She continued, as if she hadn't heard him, "-I'm scared of what could happen to you. I wish you could get away from this, from the Cartel."

He didn't say nothing would happen to him, he didn't want to make another promise when he didn't know the consequences, if it would be another one he couldn't keep. Part of her concerns he could easily remedy though.

"Ya wanna get outta here?"

She looked at him, expression a mix of doubt and confusion. "Right now?"

"Tonight, sure. We'll run over to the Clubhouse for Church and then we'll go."

"Where?"

"Anywhere ya want. Got a place in mind?" Claire was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then she looked up at him and smiled.

"Let's go to the coast. I want to go to the beach."

"I shoulda known," Chibs said, grabbing her chin and kissing her lightly. "Go pack a bag sweetheart."

"You mean we're really going tonight?"

"Absolutely."

"Really?" She leaned her hands on his chest this time, her tone going almost sarcastic.

"Yes really, now go on." Chibs laughed, giving her a little nudge towards the bedroom. Claire grinned now -he had apparently convinced her- and scampered away. Chibs smiled after her and peeled himself off the couch, glad to see a smile on Claire. And he certainly didn't mind leaving town for a bit if that's what it took to make her smile.

Ten minutes later, Claire returned wearing her black packer boots that made her legs look a mile long when paired with her favorite bootleg jeans, and wearing one of Chibs' leather button-downs. She had her own motorcycle jacket, an anniversary gift of sorts from Chibs, but she still always seemed to end up wearing his clothes instead when they went riding; she said it made her feel more comfortable, even though the sleeves fell past her hands and fit a little awkwardly over her hips. He didn't mind much, seeing as she was also unable to button it all the way over her chest; he usually got a stellar cleavage view when she decided to steal his shirt. She was only carrying her Timbuk2 bag.

"That's it?"

"Uh-huh. I figured I wouldn't need much." He raised an eyebrow at her, and she answered the unspoken question with an offhand smile. "It seems like whenever we take a trip, I never need anything besides clean underwear and a toothbrush."

"Ah." Chibs nodded in agreement. A valid point. Trips did usually usually seem to end up turning into a sex romp in a hotel somewhere between Charming and their destination. Being glued together on a motorcycle did funny things to your libido. Or maybe it was just them. Nevertheless, they headed for the door together, grabbing up the helmets on the way, and Claire locking the door behind them.

Still, Chibs couldn't help but be a little apprehensive. He didn't know how this church was going to go down, he had no idea what direction things were going to head now, but he was trying really, really hard to believe it would be in a better direction. And he hoped that wouldn't be too much to ask.

* * *

Claire was sitting at the bar, waiting. Church hadn't started just yet, and for the most part, the Sons were still mulling around the Clubhouse absently waiting for Jax to head to Church, and when he did, they silently fell into line behind him. Chibs' hand brushed the back of her neck as he left her side, though Claire couldn't decipher his expression.

Opie wasn't there. Bobby was in jail. Clay was laid up in the hospital full of lead. It seemed like a skeleton crew to Claire as she watched them silently. How could a family stick together when it was already half gone?

Chibs paused in the doorway, talking briefly with Jax and Tig. She wanted to eavesdrop, she wanted to know what was going on, but another of the things Gemma had hammered into her about being an Old Lady was to stay the hell out of it. It hadn't really bothered her before, but now it was making her stomach roil. This wasn't just what the Club was going to do next, Jax was going to end up deciding the fate of everyone here, everyone tied to the Sons. That included hers, and she wanted to at least know what they were deciding. She couldn't help leaning forward enough to see though. Chibs and Tig had switched seats. Chibs was on Jax's right hand now. The table was half empty.

The doors closed, and Claire sighed quietly to herself. Phil, behind the bar, gave her a sympathetic look and placed a new beer next to her empty bottle. He knew what it was like to be left out of decisions which would immediately effect one's life.

"Thanks." She smiled, appreciating the gesture. Phil was a good guy, kinda sweet. He reminded her of Half-Sack a little, which in turn made her sad. The Club had killed him too.

"No problem Ma'am," Phil answered, turning back to whatever he had been doing behind the bar quickly, which made Claire smile a little again. Most of the girls hated his habit of calling them Ma'am, she thought it was kind of flattering. Phil had been raised well, once upon a time.

Sipping the beer, Claire glanced up again when the door opened, and Tara strode in. Her arm bound in a sling, pins poking out here and there. Claire started to get up to let her know where Jax was, but Tara already seemed to know, and didn't seem to feel quite as respectful as Claire, striding straight to the Chapel door and pushing it open. Gemma emerged from somewhere else, probably the office, and followed. Claire, now spurred by everyone else's rejection of the rules, followed suit, sliding off her bar stool and walking to Gemma's side, peering in over her shoulder.

Tara stood behind Jax, they both stared at Gemma. Claire glanced between the three, unsure of what all this meant, but it would have taken more than the proverbial knife to cut the tension in the room. Especially between Gemma and Tara.

When had things gotten so unbelievably messed up in this family? In their family? She glanced at Chibs, who met her gaze evenly, a silent understanding, then turned to Gemma and set a hand on her shoulder.

"Gemma." Claire gave her a little nudge, and, much to Claire's shock, Gemma allowed Claire to turn her away from Chapel. As soon as Claire took her hand off the Matriarch's shoulder though, she strode away, and Claire was again left alone in the bar with the prospects. She felt a little reassured though. That look, it had been about trust. Chibs had been asking for trust, and she would try to abide with that. Though the waiting would still nearly drive her nuts.

* * *

Claire was still sitting at the bar when Church ended, her beer bottles had multiplied to four in the meantime though. Chibs split off from his brothers and went straight to her, Claire's turning to watch his approach with a flat expression.

"We needa talk.," He said simply, taking hold of her hand. Without a word, she slid off the bar stool and followed him into the empty, mostly dark garage. He hoped everyone else would be respectful enough to stay the hell out for a few minutes.

Chibs turned to her, and handed her the Sergeant at Arms patch, once Tig's spot, now his. Claire read it over in the dim lighting from the outside lights, then looked at him, her eyes widening slightly.

"This is Tig's," She said, her voice projecting worry that she would see something happen to Tig next. He could understand that, given the way things had been going, but she ought to know they weren't big on loosing another member either.

"Nothing's gonna happen to Tig. But Jax isn't sure he can trust him. He doesn't want him there, not now."

"He wants you there." Her hand closed around the patch.

"Yeah." Chibs nodded, leaning his weight back against one of the tool boxes. He knew that Claire knew what Sergeant at Arms would mean. Tig had been Clay's trigger man, and while he didn't think Jax would be running his presidency the same way, he would essentially become the same thing. Claire had to be okay with that. She had to be okay with what taking this patch meant. "Claire, this is gonna change things, and not in the way I promised ya. Jax isn't stopping the muling."

For a moment, Claire looked at him blankly, then she shook her head slightly, and he could see that she was consciously forcing herself to come to grips with this. She was calm when she spoke again, her voice even.

"I don't think I really believed they would. Change I mean. But it was a nice thing to hope for." She crossed the small distance between them, and lifted her hand to tuck the patch in his cut pocket. Chibs honestly found her calm somewhat disturbing. It had always made him nervous when she got like this, when she seemed to turn off all her feelings go numb. He never knew what to expect. "Jax needs you. He trusts you," She continued, her hands settling on his chest lightly. "Don't let him down."

"Claire-"

"I understand. I don't have to like it, but I get it. I'm just going to have to get used to the killing. It was stupid to try and believe that killing wasn't a part of the Club." She looked at something in the corner of the garage for a moment, then turned her eyes back to Chibs. "But you tell Jax that if he gets you killed I swear to God I'll tell Roosevelt what really happened to me."

"Claire, ya can't-"

"I can and I will. I've seen this Club kill a lot of people since I came to Charming. I've seen it take as much as it gives, usually more. And if it takes you from me I refuse to watch anyone else die."

Chibs had never heard her talk like this, he had never heard Claire so openly denounce the Club. The confidence she said it with, however, made him wonder how long this had been lingering under the surface and he had just been blissfully ignorant. Probably too long.

"I don't know if I can promise ya I won't get killed," Chibs finally said solemnly.

"I know. Just...just try to be careful. Please." Her hands curled themselves into his shirt now. "And uhm...don't turn into Tig." Chibs raised an eyebrow.

"How d'ya mean?"

"All...creepy. He scares me sometimes."

Unable to help himself, Chibs cracked a smile at her words. "Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure he was born like that."

"Oh." Her eyes widened and she was silent for a moment. "I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse."

"It kinda depends on his mood I suppose." Chibs smirked and shrugged,but Claire was wearing an amused little smile, so he knew that at the very least, he didn't have to worry about her going frigid on him again. Her hands drifted off of his chest, Claire's eyes turning towards the floor.

"There's something I didn't tell you," She added abruptly. "About today."

"What do ya mean?"

"Uhm...I went to the library today, when I was in town, I thought I would catch up on some paperwork or something. Ruth was training my replacement."

"What?" Chibs felt his jaw drop. "She fired ya?"

"Not exactly. But I'm under the impression that I don't have much time left. It's not really Ruth's decision, but City Council is laying me off until they decide the nature of my case."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Chibs bristled, fully intending to straighten out whichever City Council members had decided to take Claire out of her beloved library if need be.

"It means...they think what happened was SAMCRO related, and they don't want Club business being done in the library. They're meeting to discuss whether they think I'm part of the problem, and if I am, they'll probably let me go. They have to decide if the company I keep is...bad for the image they want the library to have."

"Ya mean they don't want ya to have anything to do with me or the Club," Chibs said wryly.

"Yeah. I guess that's the basic idea." She admitted, chewing a fingernail. "They don't want another thing like the attack happening. It makes people nervous." Chibs sighed, somehow not surprised by this turn of events.

"Why didn't ya tell me?"

"I kind of figured you had a lot on your plate." Claire shrugged again. "But I just wanted you to know that's why I haven't been back to work yet. And also that I might quit."

"Why?" Chibs was now quite aghast. It wasn't as if Claire needed the money -the inheritance from her father ranged somewhere in the millions, even if she had so far refused to touch it- but she had always enjoyed her work in the library, it had always suited her perfectly.

"Because I'm too old for people to be trying to tell me what to do. Last I checked I was damn well old enough to decide who I want to sleep with, who I want to live with, and who I want to be friends with. I don't plan on pretending like you have nothing to do with my life." She crossed her arms tightly, seeming to almost pout. "And I figure if they're going to fire me for hanging out with bikers, I'd just go ahead and quit anyway, because I don't want to stop."

Chibs admired her. She had grown so resolute, so sure of what she wanted lately. When she had first come to Charming, she didn't even seem to know her place in the world; hell, she had seemed scared of being involved with him, but now she was standing by him rather than giving in to what other people wanted. He loved this woman an unbelievable amount.

Chibs pulled Claire into his arms, holding her loosely to him. "Do whatever ya think it right Claire. I can stay outta the library if ya ask me to, we just may end up having more of those lunch break quickies."

"Speaking of which, do I still get my sex on a beach?"

Chibs chuckled at the subject she had brought them too. Another thing that had changed about her, Claire's appetites had definitely grown. "Ya still get sex anywhere ya want it. We can still go to the coast, if ya want. We've got time, 'specially if yer in no hurry to get back to work."

Claire looked up with a smile, and he figured he had his answer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Baby, I'm Yours**

_I am so, so sorry for how long this took to post. Mostly it had to do with the fact that I've been using my computer for school a lot lately, and it hasn't left me a lot of time to write. The other reason is that I have a real addiction problem with video games and sometimes I have trouble putting them down. :) And also that I had a little trouble deciding how exactly the time was going to work here, I originally planned to stretch these events over season 5, but recently decided that since it's such a busy season, it made more sense for it to happen before the first episode. I don't know how long was supposed to have passed, between episode one and the end of season 4, so please bear with me. There will be a little more on the end, but I didn't want to give anything away. :) _

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Way Back**

Laying around on a beach for nearly two days straight could do wonders for one's psyche. Hanging tight to Chibs as they made the last turn back into Charming, Claire felt rejuvenated. It had only been an overnight trip, but it had given her time to think about everything happening in Charming without actually dealing with the stress of it all, to contemplate it and come to terms with it. And to talk. She felt like there had been more talking between her and Chibs the last few days than there had been over the entire first sixth months of their relationship. He must have asked her a dozen times whether she was okay with him taking on the role of Sergeant at Arms, despite the fact she had given her answer before they left. In the end, it had forced her to really give it some serious thought, and she eventually came to the conclusion that while she knew that would likely put him in more danger than before, she would prefer that he stayed with the Club rather than go against them. SAMCRO was the closest thing they had to safety now, that, and when you got right down to it, it wasn't her decision, it was the Club's. She wasn't going to say it was what she had wanted in her future, but this wasn't just hers, it was their future, she and Chibs were in this together. This wasn't just about her and what she wanted, and she knew that no matter what the future did end up bringing, Sons of Anarchy was always going to be part of Chibs. She just wished she knew where things were going to go next, what, if anything more, would go wrong, so that she could be more prepared for the reality she had found herself in since moving to Charming.

First things first though, she needed a shower. Desperately. She felt gritty from the sand on the beach, sticky from just the right amount of sex in a rather dingy hotel, and just a little grungy for wearing the same clothes nearly three days in a row. Yes, shower first, then examine her life as it currently stood. The trip had, after all, been meant more for the leisure part than the deep conversations.

Chibs swerved smoothly into the driveway, shutting down the engine, and Claire gave a sigh. Partially because it felt good to be home and she was looking forward to her own bed, and partially because she always felt a little disappointed when the rides came to an end and she didn't have to be plastered to Chibs any longer. She slid off the back of the bike and wiggled around a little bit, getting the feeling back in her legs; she still wasn't used to the long rides.

"Do you want a shower or do you mind if I take one first?" Claire asked, picking up the two days worth of mail that had accumulated in the mailbox on her way to the door.

"Ya go ahead lovely. I gotta get in touch with Jax and see what's what."

And just like that, fun vacation was over, and life started up full-swing. It didn't bother Claire as much as she thought it would. Mostly, she supposed, because she thought -or at least, hoped- that Jax would refrain from jumping headlong into anything worse. Or maybe it was just because she had no love left for Clay at all; if Clay had been asking Chibs to take over Sergeant at Arms, she honestly probably would have told him not to take it, consequences be damned. She didn't know when it had happened, or how she hadn't really noticed before, but somewhere between now and the beginning, Clay had become a monster. Now a half dead one.

Twenty minutes of glorious hot water and passion fruit shampoo and conditioner later, Claire wiped her hand over the bathroom mirror clearing the steam. She looked a little sleepy from the ride, but much fresher now that she had taken a shower. She reached for her towel and began to wring her hair out, turning to grab leave-in conditioner, and was side-tracked by the view of her scar this presented. It had healed nicely, considering, but she still had a hard time looking at it directly. It wasn't that she thought it was ugly or anything like that. It just seemed...to mock her. She didn't know how else to describe it, It was like having the proverbial little devil on her shoulder constantly reminding her that she didn't quite fit into the Old Lady mold, she hadn't even been able to wear the Crow for a month before some outside force took it away; like some higher power had been trying to prove that Ruth, Roosevelt, even her mother, were right, that she didn't belong here with Chibs. Claire pushed the thoughts aside and walked to the bedroom, at first reaching for one of her tank-tops, hesitated, and then reaching for a t-shirt that would cover her shoulder instead. One day she knew she would come to better terms with it, but that time wasn't now.

Claire reemerged to find Chibs hovering over the coffee pot, appearing to wait for it to be done.

"What's the verdict?"

"We got another run. This weekend."

Claire tilted her head, but that was all Chibs said for the moment. She supposed she didn't really need to ask to know what it was about. "The hot water should be back, you go take a shower, I'll finish the coffee, okay?" He gave her a little nod, bending to kiss her cheek on the way to the bathroom.

"Thanks sweetheart."

Since neither of them appeared to feel particularly active, Claire took the the finished mugs of coffee into the living room and settled into the couch, after putting in one of her latest favorite movies, _Fast Five_. It wasn't that she liked the series exactly, but she really enjoyed the car stunts. Hanging out with bikers seemed to be turning her into a bit of a gear head.

Chibs exited the bathroom just as the first car chase ended, and without much pomp or circumstance, sprawled on the rest of the couch, settling his head and shoulders on her lap.

"Comfy?" She questioned with a smirk, glancing down at him.

"Very." He smiled at her. They were quiet for awhile, Claire watching the movie absently, Chibs apparently dozing, her hands resting on him lightly.

"Chibs?"

"Hmm?"

"Take care of our new president." He glanced up at her with a questioning expression, but nodded. "And no matter what happens now, I promise I'm going to be here."

He smiled again, Chibs' hand reached up to land lightly on the back of her neck, bringing her face to his. "I love ya Claire."

"And I love you."

* * *

The next day, returning home from a, for once, simple day of fixing motorcycles at the garage, Chibs found Claire at the kitchen table on his way to the fridge for a beer, poring over her laptop screen.

"What's all this then?" He asked, circling around the table and peering over her shoulder. He took a moment to pause and be distracted by her still-addictive scent. Sometime ago, Claire had started to buy into the name Tig used for her, Princess, and had started to play the part, at least insofar as it inspired her to buy a new perfume. Her new signature was Vera Wang's own version of Princess, which Chibs thought she pulled off fantastically. Or maybe it was just because this perfume smelled like sex, oranges, and an expensive sweet shop and he was often tempted to lick it off of her. It wasn't exactly that her tastes had gotten more expensive, he thought at least, it seemed more to him that Claire simply hadn't felt confident enough and had been overwhelmed by the idea of a designer perfume. And Chibs did so love it when Claire was confident about something. After a few moments of nuzzling her neck, Chibs remembered he had been curious about whatever she was reading so intently on her computer and turned his eyes back to the screen.

Claire was reading the specs on a car, a very specific, very fancy, 1966 Black Ford Mustang. A show car.

"This is my new car."

"What?" Chibs nearly dropped the beer bottle in his hand, convinced she was joking though she appeared totally serious.

"This is my new car. I just got off the phone with the guy selling it. Although he seems to be under the impression that it's silly for a woman to want such a car." She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by this.

Chibs stared at her blankly, then glanced at the price tag on the listing, and nearly choked on the same beer he had already almost dropped. "Didja seriously just spend thirty-three thousand dollars on a fucking car?"

"Uhm...yes." She looked at him innocently. "It's just a lot of upgrades, and it's never been driven on the road, it's only been in roadster shows. Oh, and it's a convertible."

"And can I ask why in the world ya decided ya needed this?"

Claire shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "Mid-life crisis I guess. I figured if I was going to spend my father's money on something, it would be a thing I wanted. And, you know, the Jetta is getting worn out and I've always wanted a Mustang, and it's not like I've got anything better to spend the money on right now, and-"

"I wasn't saying it was a bad idea sweetheart." Chibs smirked slightly. "Just seemed a little impulsive is all."

"Yeah, it was. I only meant to look but...I kinda fell in love with this one. The thing is...I have to go up to Washington to get it, it's in Vancouver right now."

"That's a long trip." Chibs commented quietly.

"Yeah. I'll be gone mostly while you're on the run with the Club, but I figured I'd sell the Jetta while I was up there too, I don't know how long that will take, but it should still only be a couple days. And maybe I thought I'd stop in and see Liam."

"Not yer mom?"

"No." Claire shook her head, and this gave Chibs another clue what this was about. This was as much about self-establishment as anything else. This was Claire cementing her life as she wanted it. And apparently she wanted a muscle car in it from now on, and her mother out of it. Not something he would argue with if it made her happy.

"Well, lovely, if ya already paid for it ya might as well go get it."

"You're okay with it?"

He gave her a look. "It's not my money Claire. And I'm not you're keeper, just yer lover."

"I was just worried you'd think I was being...I dunno, crazy."

"I think yer doing stuff that makes ya happy, and that's what I want for ya. 'Sides, I'm not one to argue with wanting new toys." He grinned at her. "When do ya think yer gonna leave?"

"Tomorrow I guess. No time like the present." Claire smiled, reaching to the power button on her computer and shutting it down. "The only thing I'm worried about is how stupid long that drive is going to be."

"You've made it from here to Portland on a motorcycle, yu'll be fine."

"Suppose that's true." Claire looked absently at the closed laptop, smiling. "I'll be back in a couple days, hopefully before you get home. So I can jump you at the door and do things to you." She laughed now, climbing out of her chair and moving until she was directly in front of him, taking the beer he had thus far only taken a sip from out of his hand. "Or, if it's the other way around, I suppose you could jump me."

"Wouldja complain?" He smirked, lifting Claire lightly with his arms around her hips and setting her rear on the table behind her.

"Mm...don't think so. But you never know, you may catch me on the one day where I feel like saying no."

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "In that case, I guess I better make sure yer climbing walls by the time ya get back." He stepped pointedly away from Claire, reaching around her for his beer, and strolling off down the hall as though he hadn't a care in the world. It took only about five seconds before he heard her quick footsteps behind him to the edge of the kithcen, and her indignant voice floating down the hall.

"Filip Telford, you are the worst!"

"Yer the one that loves me sweetheart," He called back in a sing-song tone. He heard an indignant huff from the kitchen.

"You're totally not getting laid tonight just so you know."

* * *

In all the time Claire had lived in Portland -that being most of her life- she had only ever crossed the river into Washington two or three times for short visits with her family. She couldn't rightly remember what else those trips had involved besides being trapped in the back seat of the town car with with her brother. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember a single family trip where she and Liam had ridden with their parents. They would be dropped off at a park somewhere with their babysitter and a security guard, and told not to get dirty. Not a lot to do in a park when you weren't allowed to play in the dirt like the other kids. So they had sat together bored, unable to get along with each other any better than with strangers. Didn't make for a lot of fond memories of family trips.

This wasn't a family trip, this was a Claire trip. She had dropped the Jetta off at a Volkswagen dealership, and had then taken a cab to the lot where the Mustang rested. In a weird way, she felt almost sad to be getting rid of the Jetta. It had been the first thing she had ever owned under her own name, the first thing her father hadn't been able to control and take away. Maybe it was silly to get so attached to a car, but being her main mode of transportation for as long as had made it a big part of her life. She had actually cried -just a little- as she had boarded the cab to leave it behind.

Chibs would have laughed and told her she was being silly. It had been sad, but Claire was changing a lot of things in her life, moving forward in many others, and this was just a part of that. She wasn't so soft and quiet and demure anymore.

That said, when the cab dropped her off at the roadster show, where her new car was apparently located, Claire couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed. She felt really, really out of place; there weren't many women at all in her view of the large expo hall, and those that were looked horribly bored, rolling their eyes as husbands and boyfriends bullshitted loudly with one another. Claire stepped inside and hugged her jacket close over her shoulders. She didn't know why she had decided to wear her motorcycle jacket for this trip, probably in hopes that it would make her feel tougher when she finally met the guy she had bought the Mustang from. Not that looking tough was quite the same as feeling it of course , but when she finally found the seller's name in the directory, she was less than impressed. He looked like a suburban dad in old TV shows, little comb-over and all. The way he had sounded on the phone, with a slow, deliberate Tennessee drawl, she had been expecting some six-foot-four cowboy.

Claire approached, bolder now that she knew Mr. Samuel Anderson, as the directory labeled him, didn't look quite so scary. He turned and smiled at her approach, strode forward and stuck out his hand.

"You must be Claire, the lady who bought my baby, huh?" It was then, when Mr. Anderson spoke with no accent whatsoever, that Claire realized this wasn't even the man she had spoken on the phone with, and she couldn't help but say as much.

"Uhm, yes. I'm Claire. You're not the one I spoke with a couple days ago, are you?"

Mr. Anderson's brow furrowed slightly. "No, that would have been Jared. My son-in-law. If he said anything a bit rude I'll apologize now for him; I think he was under the impression he was getting the Mustang as a wedding present, but the wife wanted it sold. He's a little...disappointed."

"I see." Claire nodded, the comments about women and cars from the man on the phone suddenly made a lot more sense. She almost felt bad, she could understand someone being upset about losing such a beautiful car to the care of a total stranger, but that didn't mean she was about to give it up either.

"Can't say I really understand why my daughter married the guy in the first place, but he seems to make her happy so I guess I can't complain." Mr. Anderson shrugged, and here Claire smiled a little bit. Partially because she knew her mother would probably have some way, way nastier things to say about Chibs if anyone asked her -regardless of whether he made her happy or not- and partially because she was starting to think it was simply natural for any father to hate all their daughter's boyfriends; she had listened a time or two when Kerrianne and Chibs had talked on the phone and knew from that alone that it was virtually impossible for fathers to approve any boy. She had actually wondered once whether Chibs was going to book the next flight to Ireland when he had been told one of these boys was taking Kerrianne to a school dance. It had really been quite cute to watch him pace back and forth along the living room carpet wondering aloud what Kerrianne saw in this particular boy. Of course, her father was obviously excluded in this equation.

But, all this was distracting her from the matter at hand, that being Mr. Anderson leading Claire in-between all the other cars set up around the expo to the back lot, where those that were being sold were parked. The Mustang was even more beautiful in person. The care taken with it all the years Mr. Anderson had owned it was obvious, the paint flawless and waxed to a high shine, the chrome polished, and the leather interior -revealed as the top was currently down- had been given equal care and attention, looking smooth and supple and smelling of leather soap.

Claire honestly thought for just a moment that she might have to change her panties. She had never seen herself as much of a car fanatic, though she had appreciated most muscle cars growing up. Maybe hanging out with bikers all the time had increased her love of machinery, or maybe it was just because she could hardly believe she actually owned this car, but something about it made her feel all tingly inside.

She realized after a moment that Mr. Anderson had been circling around the car and telling her about any of the little problems -few and far between as they were from his diligent care- and she snapped to attention again to listen.

"-so the worst of the problems is really just getting it started when it's cold out, it can be finicky about the weather."

"Oh, that's okay. I live in California, it's plenty warm there." Claire smiled. "Plus, I have lots of mechanic friends, I'm sure if I ever run into trouble they can fix it for me."

"I bet that's nice." Mr. Anderson returned her smile. "I'm more of a hobbyist myself, but the car's in good shape. It'll get you to California no problem."

"Great, thank you. I'm really, really looking forward to driving it." Mr. Anderson reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys hooked on a Ford keychain. "Alright then Miss Claire, I'm trusting her to your care." He handed the keys over to her with, if she wasn't mistaken, a misty look in his eyes.

"And I'll take real good care of her, I promise."

"It was a pleasure to meet you. But now I'll leave you to get acquainted." The older gentleman turned and strode back into the expo hall, leaving Claire with her newest joy. She unlocked the door, which was silly, considering the top was down, and slid into the seat, taking a moment to just get used to the feel of it, setting her hands on the wheel. It was definitely going to be different then her Jetta, compared to the compact size of the VW, sitting in the Mustang felt like sitting in a tank.

No wonder so many people splurged on muscle cars on their mid-life crisis.

In some ways, it felt incredibly selfish to be using her father's money like this; to just be buying things for herself instead of using it to do something good, or at least so that other people benefited. But money was all that she had left of him, all that he had left for her.

No fond memories of family outings, of tea parties with her teddies and her daddy, of warning her first boyfriend to treat her like a lady, not even a loving hand on her shoulder or righteous indignation when the sham of her engagement had fallen through. No, her father had left her barely a thing to make a happy memory from, just a part of the fortune he had spent his life caring for and cultivating instead of his children.

With that in mind, she hardly felt guilty using it to buy things to make her happier. Maybe that would have been what her father had wanted, maybe, somewhere under all his scowls and disapproval he had hoped that leaving her money would give her the happiness he hadn't known how to provide. Or maybe he really had been a cold-hearted bastard and the only reason her family had gotten the money was because he hadn't been able to bear the thought of it going to charity or some such thing. He would probably be turning in his grave if he saw her spending it on this car instead of investing it in something. Maybe she would one day. Maybe Jax would need a partner to help keep the garage afloat in the next couple years.

Or maybe she would open her own library somewhere, stuff it full of erotica and romance novels and bikers could hang out all goddamn day if they wanted.

This thought made her smile, and Claire was still smiling when she finally started the car, letting it roar to life around her, and started her journey to the less-fun part of this trip. That being a long-overdue visit with her remaining family.

She could hardly wait.

* * *

Claire's brother Liam wasn't quite as downtown blue-blood as their mother, but his condo in Lake Oswego was no less posh, twice the size a bachelor should need; one spare bedroom had been turned into a personal gym, and the other had become a music studio during the week Liam had imagined himself becoming a rock star. He'd bought the guitar and the recording equipment, but hadn't really ever played and had never bothered to learn. It was sad really, all that going to waste. Hadn't been her money though.

Claire eased the Mustang into a parking spot in the garage, still not used to the width of it, and having to back out to adjust it slightly before she got it right. She didn't see Liam's Viper anywhere in the garage though, and it tended to stand out; she swore he must have walked into a Dodge dealership and asked for the most obnoxious car on the lot.

Either way, Liam had known she was coming, so it wasn't like he would have left. Or maybe he would have, she never could tell with her younger brother.

She locked up the car and headed toward the elevator, taking it up to the twenty-third floor, and strode down the hall to his place, surprised to hear, of all things, Janis Joplin playing through the door. This was definitely getting weird. First no Viper, and now music her brother had always called 'hippy junk' blaring out of his condo? Either Liam had had a serious mental breakdown recently, or he had moved out in the last couple days since she had made plans to visit him.

Still, Claire raised her hand and knocked on the door, and felt her eyes widen and her jaw drop when a very short, very obviously pregnant brunette answered her brother's door. And though she knew it was rude, the first thing out of Claire's mouth was long, drawn out, "Uhhhm..."

It hardly deterred the woman's cheerfulness. "Oh, hi! You must be Claire, Liam said you were coming by to visit today, he just didn't say when. He's horrible about that, I'm sure you know, being big sister and all." She smiled a wide, plump-cheek smile at Claire, then fluttered her hands a bit. "I'm being terribly rude, aren't I? Please come in, I understand you came all the way from California-"

"Actually Washington, I'm on my way back-" Claire allowed herself to be lead through the foyer, decorated for some reason with a lot of Art Nouveau prints she had never seen, before she remembered she hadn't the faintest clue who this woman was. "Uh, sorry, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but do you mind explaining who you are? I don't think we've met, and Liam never said...anything about anyone being here-"

"Oh, right, I forget." She smiled again, unshakable. "I was still in school when you were engaged to Ben. I'm Alexandra Mallory-"

"She's my fiance." Liam finally decided to appear suddenly from what appeared to be his music room. At least, it had been; now it was painted powder pink, or about halfway painted, and there was a crib standing in it. And Liam was dressed in ratty jeans and t-shirt with paint splotches on them. Claire stared at her brother, stared at Alexandra, whom she had never met but did share an awful lot of Ben's features, and then her brother again, who shrugged as though all this was very commonplace.

"I wanted it to be a surprise Sis."

"Okay, well. Success. I'm surprised. Shocked actually. Alexandra," She turned and offered what she guessed was a shaky smile, "-I've had a long drive, and I could really use the bathroom to freshen up a little."

"Of course, you know where it is?"

"Yes, thank you." Claire turned and all but bolted for the bathroom, not sure she believed what was going on around her. Was her brother up to something? Ben's sister? Cousin? Whatever she was, what was all this about an engagement? She peeled out of her motorcycle jacket and forced herself to check her make-up in the mirror, but wasn't really interested in how she looked. She was just taking a private moment to process all this new information.

"Jesus Christ Claire, what happened to your shoulder?" She jumped, Liam's voice booming in the small tiled room, and whipped around to face her brother, her hand snapping up to cover the scar, barely visible below the collar of her t-shirt.

"Nothing. An accident."

"You're lying." Liam shook his head slightly, staring at her levelly as he leaned on the door frame.

"Okay, and what the hell are you doing? Is she related to Ben? And what's this about being your fiance? And what the hell are you doing to the spare room?"

"She is my fiance. I asked her to marry me three weeks ago. And I'm building a nursery." Liam said simply. Claire was silent, staring at him bemusedly. It took him a moment to catch on that the look meant to continue explaining. "And yes, she's related to Ben the asshole. His little sister actually. Weird huh? He never mentioned her, because apparently his Dad couldn't keep it in his pants and they don't like to talk about the illegitimate one, Alex's words, not mine. They paid for her college to hush up her mom, that's where she was when you and him were doing your...thing. She got back six months ago."

"And I'm guessing that's about when you knocked her up? Jesus, Liam, is she even legal?"

Indignation flashed on Liam's face. "She's twenty." Then he shrugged slightly. "The baby was a bit of an accident, I admit. We weren't expecting that. She asked me if I wanted her to...to you know, get rid of it. I couldn't say yes." He shrugged again. "I guess I'm a sucker. I fell in love instead. I want to be a father."

Claire still could only stare, sincerely unsure of whether she wanted to congratulate her brother or beat the crap out of him. "Okay. I'm not really one to judge I suppose. But do you mind running this by me one more time? So we're on the same page here?"

Liam appeared suddenly to have an extreme interest in his shoes, also sporting splotches of pink paint. "I was having...a really hard time last year. And no, I didn't want to talk about it, which is why you didn't know. I was drinking a lot. I met Alex at some corporate bullshit party Ben was throwing, and neither of us wanted to be there, so we left. We talked, we came back here, we talked some more, one thing led to another, and a week or so later she called an told me the news. I haven't been drinking since."

"And you didn't run away." Claire observed quietly. That was the most unusual part of that story. Distance was how everyone in her family operated; when things got tough, when things got weird, they pulled away. Emotionally in her parents case, moving two states away in hers, and alcoholic oblivion in Liam's. But this time, it seemed that Liam wasn't only sticking around; rather, he was jumping headlong into his new situation.

"No, I didn't. What can I say? I guess I don't really like the idea of my daughter growing up like we did, not knowing if her parents actually love her, never having the time for her. Besides, you don't know her yet, but Alex is literally impossible not to love." This Liam said with a bit of a smile, and Claire was hard-pressed not to smile too. She could see her little brunette future sister-in-law as being lovable, if only because, so far, she had exhibited no signs of being anything like Ben.

"Honestly, I don't think I ever expected to be an aunt," She finally said, laughing a little to herself. "Least of all before I was forty. Still, I'm glad. Despite how it may seem sometimes, I do still want to see you happy."

"I think this might be it. I think this will be what makes me happy." Liam shrugged again, though Claire could tell it wasn't because he was really so aloof, but because he simply didn't know how to channel the emotions he was trying to communicate.

"Well, I guess the only other question I have is how is Ben's family handling it? I mean, It can't be going over so well that mine and Ben's engagement fell through and suddenly you're getting hitched to Mr. Mallory's illegitimate daughter. No matter how cute she is." Claire crossed her arms and leaned her lower back on the bathroom counter, wondering for a moment if they should be including Alex in this conversation. Still, the idea of what Ben's father would think of this did worry her. She knew how this social circle worked, and it was, truthfully, often a lot like Renaissance England. Everything was about bloodlines and entitlement, and there was no doubt that both of the Reinhardt siblings had now sufficiently failed at this.

Ben's brow furrowed in a frown at the mention of the elder Mallory. "Of course, the old prick is suddenly really interested in Alex. He tried to play nice and take her out to lunch today."

Claire joined her brother in a scoff. It was strange, all the years she had felt like Liam was somehow her opposite, somehow a part of the family business, and suddenly it seemed they had been on the same page all along.

"Figures." She concluded. "I suppose the fact that she's marrying into our family matters more to him than who's the mother on the birth certificate. He probably thinks this is the way in he lost when I broke up with Ben. Do you think he knows we only own fifteen percent of the company?"

"He doesn't care." Alex's voice suddenly joined the conversation, and the little brunette appeared at Liam's side in the doorway, her expression surprisingly somber. "He thinks that as long as he can get a hold of part of the Reinhardt stock, he can keep collecting it."

"Well, isn't he just a peach." Claire said, feeling her mouth pull down in a frown.

"That isn't the worst of it." Liam added after a pause, glancing at Alex, a silent communication that Claire had seen pass many-a-time between Jax and Tara. And perhaps between herself and Chibs on occasion. "Mom is totally set on the idea, of making friend's with Ben's family again. I kinda...accidentally let it slip you'd be in town today, and...she decided you're going to dinner tonight."

"Beg pardon?" Claire's eyes widened.

"Mom planned some fancy dinner that's supposed to smooth out all the wrinkles between our families, and apparently she thinks you're coming along." Liam gave her an apologetic look, which was promptly followed up with a look that was suspiciously like puppy-dog eyes. "Alex and I would really appreciate if you would come Claire."

"Why?"

"Because it will be a lot easier to convince Mr. Mallory to back off if no one but your mother is even remotely interested in getting along or becoming business partners." Alex spoke up again, and the fact that she called her father "Mr. Mallory" told Claire all she needed to know about that particular familial relationship. "You own the other half of Liam's shares in the company, so if you both tell him no, he doesn't have any reason to keep pursuing this farce of suddenly remembering I'm his daughter. He'll know he won't get anything monetary out of it."

Claire had to admire Alex for this. Claire had had a lot of issues with her own father, no debate there, but she had always lacked the courage to stand up to her father. To tell him what was what and that she wouldn't have any of his false pretenses. This was something Alex apparently had in abundance.

Liam was right, it was really hard not to love this little woman.

And if there was one thing SAMCRO and Gemma had taught Claire, it was that you stood by the ones you loved when they needed you. Even if she wasn't so sure Liam deserved the help for all the times he had been a jerk growing up.

* * *

_Author's Note: So yeah. I've always gone back and forth over what Claire would do with her inheritance. A lot of the time I thought she would start like...funding stuff SAMCRO did, though I've also toyed with this car Idea for a long time, and I was never sure which she would be more likely to do. Or both. But recently I decided that Claire needs to be selfish for a little while (Also I love Ford Mustangs, and any excuse to put one in a story is one I'll take). I felt she needed to step out and do some things for herself, and essentially have a little growth as an individual, because I feel that she has lately been very wound up in Chibs and his life rather than her own, which is also what the next chapter entails. There honestly isn't going to be a lot of Chibs for the next one, because I want to focus on Claire for awhile. Again, please bear with me for this. I promise they'll continue their usual antics soon. :) _


	7. Chapter 7

**Baby, I'm Yours**

_Author's Note: Let's see here...nothing too important. I did have to slip a little Chibs in there, just for fun. And also to take advantage of the fact there is little evidence (that I remember) of him sleeping around the last couple seasons, so he and Claire can be all monogamous and junk. Of course, now that I've said that, Season six will probably be full of Sweetbutts and I'll have to pretend they're all secretly Claire or something. Anyway, I really enjoyed this chapter. I'm sure you'll be able to figure out why. :) The chapter title was pulled from one of my latest favorite songs (actually, a few have been pulled inspired by this song) called 'Home' by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. I highly recommend it. _

* * *

**Chapter 7: Nothing that I Need**

Alexandra had turned the in-home gym into quite the lovely guest room. A bronze-framed bed, a wing-backed chair, plush burgundy rug laid over the hardwood, and an antique lamp on the bed-side that Claire had spent most of the evening admiring. She suspected she and Alex were going to get along famously, if only for the mutual love of Tiffany knock-offs.

Clad in her pajamas, Claire sat on the edge of the bed, phone held to her ear. She didn't expect Chibs to answer of course, he was probably still on the road, but he had asked her to keep him updated. After about a minute, it finally went to voicemail..

"Hey Chibs...I just wanted to let you know I got to Washington fine, and back to Portland. I love the car, by the way. It's absolutely gorgeous in person. Anyway, I'm staying at Liam's tonight, who I have to tell you quite a story about, but I might not get home tomorrow, I guess we have to settle some shit with our mom...so I probably won't be able to head back into California until tomorrow night. Anyway, call me when you guys pull over somewhere, okay? Let me know nothing's gone wrong yet, and I'll see you in a couple days. Love you." She tapped the screen to end the call and looked up, jolting slightly to see Liam lingering in the doorway.

"Hi." She said after a moment, when he said nothing.

"Hey." Was his equally awkward reply. "Was that Chip?"

"Chibs." Claire corrected, though she was smiling. Chibs probably would have given Liam a fat-lip if he called him Chip to his face. "And no. Just voicemail. He's on the road."

"Ah." Liam entered the room, and sat in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Claire recognized it as a mannerism they shared, and knew that, whatever Liam was about to say, he was unsure of it. "Claire, can we talk about...that scar?"

Her fingers inched their way over her shoulder to probe at it, but she nodded, picking at the burgundy bed-spread under her crossed legs. "What do you want to know?"

"I mean it's just...was it...him?"

"No!" Claire didn't shout, but the word was forceful. "Chibs has never hurt me, I don't think he's ever even seriously raised his voice at me. Why do people keep assuming it was him?"

"Well I mean...Claire, come on. Think about it. He's probably got a rap-sheet longer than my arm."

"You've never even met Chibs. What the hell do you know about him?" Claire rolled her eyes, getting sick and tired of this discussion. Sure, people had thought she and Chibs a bit of an odd match before, but it seemed like everyone had passed it off as a phase. Like she was going to get bored and move on eventually. Now, all of a sudden, because it was a serious relationship it was a problem? That said, it was probably true, she had never seen Chibs' rap-sheet, and he was usually pretty good at not getting caught, but she honestly hadn't a clue what his background check would look like. She had seen his mughsot of course, but she'd already known he had been arrested before.

"Then what the hell happened? That was no accident."

Claire pressed her hand down on the scar a little more, though she didn't know what that would accomplish. Finally, she settled on telling Liam what was mostly the truth. "I got attacked a few weeks ago. And no, it wasn't Chibs or anyone in his Club. He was...from another one. There was some shit between them, I got caught in it."

Liam made a face at her that she supposed was indignant, though it also had a fair amount of anger in it. "And you're _okay _with that? You get your back carved up and we're going to sit here and talk about it like it's no big deal?"

"Of course it's a big deal. I'm not stupid Liam." Claire wasn't really looking at him as she spoke, not really caring if her brother couldn't understand. She was dealing with it her way, which did not include leaving Charming or Chibs, as she sensed her brother was about to argue she should. Instead, he huffed, sitting back in the chair.

"Tell me you at least went to the police."

"Of course I did." Never mind the fact she had only done so to prevent Chibs from getting charged with something he didn't do. Liam was silent for a long time.

"You don't blame...Chibs?"

"No. It wasn't his fault. Chibs tried to protect me, but he can't always be there."

"Does this kind of stuff happen often? I mean, are you going to get hurt again if you stay down there?" Liam asked. "Look, I know you like this guy and all, but is it really worth getting hurt like that?"

"A lot of the things that have happened in my life the last couple years have been because of Chibs, and I know it might not look like it to someone from the outside, but there have been a lot more good things than bad. Chibs was the one who made me realize that I didn't have to live the way Dad wanted me to, and that I didn't have to feel bad about it. I spent most of my life trying to live up to everyone else's expectations, but he never asked me to that."

Liam was quiet again for a few moments. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure...I guess."

"What's he like?"

"Chibs?" Liam nodded, and Claire raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

Liam shrugged. "Like you said, I've never met the guy, hell, I hardly know him. And you've been dating him for like what, almost two years now? Minus the little break in the middle? I guess I'm curious about him. After Ben, I wasn't sure I was ever going to see you happy, you know?"

"Oh." Claire was also quiet for a few seconds. Here they were, both siblings well into their thirties, and both trying very, very hard to establish a bond that hadn't really been there during childhood. "Did you know Chibs is Scottish?" She threw out the first thing that came to mind to describe him, which was really the obvious thing she supposed.

"Scottish? I thought he was a biker."

"Well, yeah. But that's not like an exclusively American thing. He tells me there's even an MC over in Ireland." She smiled, it was so rare she got an opportunity to gush. "I love his accent, I could listen to Chibs talk for hours. Except for not really, because after awhile he just starts telling crass jokes, which is not so cute."

Liam snorted. "Sounds charming."

"He can be when he wants to be. I think that's why I was attracted to him in the first place though, he was always making me laugh. That, and I don't think he had ever planned to take no for an answer."

"So...why'd you break up with him a year ago?"

Claire shrugged a bit, only now realizing that she hadn't really gone into detail about what had happened with anyone. Her friends in Charming had mostly already known about it in as much detail as it mattered; not to mention most of them had known before she did. "I uh...found out Chibs was married."

"Oh shit." Liam's eyes widened.

"Kind of. It's complicated really. But it's safe to say all the trust-issues came back full-force. It wasn't even like I went back because he asked me to, I don't know if I ever would have if there hadn't been an...emergency. And in the end, he chose me. So we started again."

"Just like that?" The indignation was coming back to Liam's face.

"No, not just like that. We started living together again, yeah, but that was about it for awhile. It was six months before we actually started sleeping in the same bed again, almost as long before we started having sex. It took a lot of work before I trusted him again." And that, she thought, was what had led to her throwing Fiona in Chibs' face the night before she was attacked. A lack of trust she hadn't known still lingered between them. Was that still there? That tiny seed of doubt? She couldn't tell, not now. She had assumed that she loved Chibs enough to go on good faith, but maybe that wasn't the case. That said, she knew that was something she knew she could change. "I don't just like him, I love him Liam."

"I know. I just don't think I really understood it until recently." Liam leaned back in the chair, throwing an arm over its wide back. "It was the same with Alex, you know? Came out of nowhere. I'd do anything for her." Her brother drifted off for a moment, clearly lost in thought, then looked over at Claire again. "Let's do something soon, like, as a family. Maybe after the baby is born. We can go on a trip or something, bring Chibs. We'll all get to know each other."

Claire smiled, giving a little nod, though she wasn't sure how plausible the idea was at this juncture. "Yeah. I'd like that. But we better not take Chibs to any fancy resorts, I don't think that kind of thing would agree with him." In fact, she was pretty sure Chibs would go crazy if he went anywhere that didn't serve beer and let him smoke wherever he wanted. Or if it had a valet. She was pretty sure no stranger would be touching his bike without broken fingers.

The siblings were peaceably quiet for a a few minutes, and then Liam started in again. "So, I'm marrying the love of my life. What's you're excuse?"

"Well, he's been married once, didn't work out. I almost got married once, didn't work out. Guess we don't want to jinx it."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "So you just plan to live out of wedlock for the rest of your life?"

Claire made a snarky noise through her nose. "I guess we're just unconventional. At least he didn't knock me up, huh?"

Liam made a face at her, flipped her off in a mostly sarcastic way, and walked out of the guest room smiling.

* * *

A blonde passed Chibs as he leaned back on his bike, digging his phone out of a cut pocket, her obviously fake tits nearly spilling from her too-small tank-top. He took a moment to wonder just what about that sort of thing had once appealed to him, and why he was absolutely uninterested now, not even casting her a second glance after she had passed him.

The phone showed a missed call and a voicemail from Claire. Of course. That was why. He hadn't known Claire, hadn't loved her, when he had still been easily swayed by skimpy tops and short skirts. He hadn't realized until he met Claire that the thought of monogamy had still appealed to him after the circus his marriage had turned into. He hit voicemail and listened to the message, a smile playing on his face just from hearing her voice, but frowned when she mentioned her mother. She had said before she had no plans of seeing her, so what had changed her mind?

He knew he didn't have to worry, the little minx was damned good at handling herself these days, damned good at letting people know when she was done listening to them. Whatever it was, he knew Claire would be fine. He called back to leave a quick message of his own, and straightened as some of the other Sons began to trickled out of the truckstop diner the Club had stopped at, partially for fuel, partially for food, and in the case of a few, partially for a quick suck in the bathroom.

They were on the last stretch, home was just down the highway.

* * *

Claire knew that this little 'family' outing was supposed to be fairly formal, but she was going in jeans and her packer boots anyway. The packers were the closest thing she owned to heels these days, and while they did accentuate her leg-length nicely, they weren't exactly suited for a dinner party. Not that it really mattered, they were the only shoes she had brought with her, so they'd have to do. She wasn't about to go and buy an outfit she only planned to wear tonight, and she wasn't really in the mood where she cared to please her mother anyway. She did dig a clean, hole-free pair of darkwash jeans out of her bag though, and she did accept Alex's offer to borrow a pretty, green satin top, loose on top and gathering slightly at the bottom in a bit of a ruffle. Despite the height difference between the women, Claire standing about three inches taller, it fit her pretty well. Liam must have told Alex about the scar, because Claire had noticed that she only offered her shirts with a full back, and kind of appreciated that Alex hadn't started asking about it as well.

Now the pair, Alex wearing a simple black Maxi-style dress to accommodate her belly, stood in the bathroom applying make-up and finishing up hair. Claire had thought of just twisting hers up and not doing anything with it, but in the end had borrowed Alex's curling iron to give it a little flip at the ends where her layers had grown out. It looked a bit like Mariska Hargitay's on _Law and Order_, and Claire was pleased with the outcome. It had been awhile since she'd actually styled her hair since letting it grow. She glanced over at Alex, meaning to ask her opinion, and found her to be looking at Claire through the mirror.

"I want to thank you," The little brunette said quietly, "-for going with us. It means a lot."

Claire shrugged. "Hey, we're going to be sisters soon."

"But you didn't have to agree. You've already gotten away from all this, from the crap our families try to pull. We didn't want to drag you back into it, but truthfully, I don't think Liam would have been brave enough to go to this dinner without you. He doesn't say it, but I think he really admires you. For being able to walk away."

Unsure of what to say at first, Claire looked down at the curling iron still held loosely in her hand. "I had help," She finally said, curling the cord around her finger. "I had friends who taught me how to really be happy. And I think that's what you might be for my brother. I mean, before you, I'm pretty sure I never would have seen my brother do any painting himself, let alone in pink. Or throw away all those goddamned guitars he never played."

Alex's lips twitched, then she smiled fully and let out a little laugh. "Oh, he didn't throw them away. They're all packed away in a storage unit down the street that he thinks I don't know about."

Claire rolled her eyes and laughed a little herself. That was just like Liam. More the part where he thought he could get away with anything than the packrat part.

Interrupting the girlish laughs, Liam poked his head in the bathroom door, looking mildly curious about all the giggles. "We have to go soon if we're going to make it in time for the reservation."

"Sure honey," Still all giggles and joy, Alex bounced out the door, followed by a bemused Claire. She did not remember anyone else in her life ever being as energetic while pregnant. She distinctly remembered Tara being grumpy. All the time. And Tara had certainly never done any bouncing when she looked about ready to pop.

"She's...bubbly." Liam shrugged at Claire's expression, though in Claire's opinion, 'bubbly' didn't do Alex justice. Claire pulled her motorcycle jacket back on, partially because after California, Portland felt very, very cold, and partially because she wanted to make sure there was no confusion that she still preferred her biker life to the high life.

Back in the parking garage, she discovered what had happened to Liam's cherished Viper; Alex had convinced him to sell it and purchase a Mercedes-Benz M-class, an SUV with plenty of back seat room for the family. Claire tried to hide the smirk as Alex told her how much convincing it had taken to finally talk Liam into it. And she couldn't help but point out her brand-new Mustang just to see him shoot her a jealous look.

The restaurant wasn't far, and was one of the very posh, expensive places, just the kind of thing her Mother would have picked. The trio climbed out and walked in, each steeling themselves for what was to come.

Claire's had been prepared for her Mother's fit at what she was wearing, she had been prepared for the nasty looks being shot her way from the Mallory side of the table, and she had been prepared to be unable to pronounce anything on the menu. Basically, she had been ready to be miserable for the entire night. What she had not been prepared for, at all, was for Ben to come waltzing into the door right behind she, Liam, and Alex. Heading right for them, wearing the sickeningly sweet smile she had long since learned to loathe.

Didn't that just fucking figure.

Claire wheeled around to face her mother, who effected an innocent look to Claire's glare, before pretending to be very interested in something across the dining room.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Claire demanded, having to grab her Mother's arm when she tried to ignore Claire.

"Who, Ben?" Her Mother still tried to feign innocence, and Claire just rolled her eyes. As if she didn't know. "He just wanted to see you. That's all. It seemed perfectly harmless. He even brought his lovely fiance."

At that, Claire was gritting her teeth. This made fiance number five, herself being number four. As she had learned after their break-up, he had still been sleeping with numbers two and three when he had begun to court Claire. For some reason no one had ever caught on to why he never actually made it the altar.

"Please Claire, just be nice."

"Not if he starts being an asshole." Claire replied, more annoyed at all this than ever. She stalked to the table and sat down in the chair the waiter pulled out for her, irritated even further when Ben and his twiggy blonde fiance took the spots directly opposite her.

Dinner was literally painful. Mallory Sr. could not take a hint to save his life. He spent the entire dinner attempting to start conversation with the daughter he had disowned until she got engaged to Liam, and was ignored or given one-word answers to just about everything. It felt like _Mean Girls _on a grand scale to Claire, who spent most of the whole debacle trying to ignore Ben and Miss Five, who was apparently named Giselle. She spoke French fluently, evidently from Canada.

It wasn't that Claire was jealous, far, far from it, it was simply that she couldn't believe that a couple years ago that had been her. She had been the one Ben pretended to fawn over while checking out the other women in the restaurant, the one who's leg he would touch when her attention drifted too far away from himself. It was sickening. Claire wanted to stab her ex in the eye with her little salad fork.

Knowing this would be unhealthy however, she opted against it, and instead focused on calculating just how long it would take her to get back to Charming, factoring in snack stops and bathroom breaks. She could make it tomorrow morning if she wanted to really push the 200 horsepower in the Mustang. And, she had to admit, she did really want to push it, just to see what it could do, speeding tickets be damned.

She noticed then that everyone was standing up, and, thinking that maybe Mallory Sr. had finally given up, Claire stood as well, relieved, only to discover that they were instead absconding to the bar. Alex promptly excused herself, citing her pregnancy, and returned to their table for desert of some sort, Liam followed his future wife, but before Claire could come up with her own excuse, Ben had looped one arm through Claire's, and the other through Giselle's, and practically dragged them to the bar. It was only when they had crossed the threshold that he loosened his grip enough for Claire to wrench her arm free and storm away from him, away from her Mother who was trying to convince Mallory Sr. that Alex just needed time, that Liam wouldn't be like Claire and disappear out-of-state. She wondered what Ben's father had promised her to convince Liam and Alex to join the pandemonium, to breed a nice little heir to the empire.

God, Claire hated this place.

She took a seat on a vacant bar stool, and wanted to spit when Ben's voice came up behind her again, ordering something that sounded utterly foreign, 'for the lady'. It was only when the bar tender set a glass of red wine at Claire's elbow that she realized it was for her and not Giselle.

"You still like Merlot, right?" Ben asked, sitting uninvited next to her. She thought of not taking the wine, but decided if Ben wanted to pay fourteen dollars a glass, she would take advantage. Giselle was now noticeably absent. "Are you just going to ignore me all night?"

"That was the plan." Claire said into the crystal glass, while Ben ordered up a double of something that sounded as expensive as the wine.

"You look good Claire," Ben said, obviously ignoring her answer. Claire snorted inelegantly into the wine. They both knew that was utter crap on his part. For one, she hardly looked different, and for two, she had shown up to a suit-and-tie affair in jeans and a motorcycle jacket. Then again, depending on who you asked, she supposed she could say she had been going for 'rocker chic' or something. His fingers brushed up the leather of her sleeve, and she tossed him her best frosty glare, pulling her arm away. "I mean it. You look...happy."

"Which has nothing to do with anything here." Ben opened his mouth to say something more, and Claire cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever it was. "So, you and Giselle. You seem happy."

Ben laughed. Coldly. "Oh yeah, she's fine. Until she starts screaming in French and throwing things. She's very...temperamental." He gave Claire a look that she didn't catch the meaning off. Like she was in on whatever little conspiracy this was.

"Is that what you're into these days? Screaming?" Ben only smirked, as though finding her very coy.

"No." He leaned on the bar, and then, probably thinking he was being very sly, very sexy, his hand landed on her thigh. "I like the quiet kind of woman. The gentle kind."

"Get your hand off. Now." Claire said firmly, barely resisting the urge to smash the wine glass in her hand against his face. She knew he wasn't doing this because he felt any sort of attraction to her; she didn't think he ever really had. He was doing this because he wanted to believe he still had some sway over her. It was Ben's idea of power, manipulating women, having them fall at his feet. And she was not going to sit here and take this from him. Not anymore.

Ben had never made her scream, not once. Chibs on the other hand had never failed to do so, she didn't believe she had ever spent a quiet night with him. Other than the nights they didn't actually have sex of course, but those were kind of rare.

She shoved Ben's hand off her leg. "Touch me again and I swear to God Ben, I will hurt you."

"You will, or will you sick your biker on me?" His suave control finally broke, Ben realizing he was making absolutely no progress with her. Clearly, he thought she had been lonely without him. She could see it in the way the frustration was mixing with confusion; he thought he had broken her heart, that she would have been unable to move on. Hell, he seemed to think she should be jumping at him for his little caresses, as though he was taking pity on her for pretending to be interested again.

She was beginning to wonder why she had never noticed that Ben really and truly bordered on the pathetic, that he was this egotistical. He didn't just talk like he was God's gift to women, he actually believed it.

Claire, now seriously, seriously sick of this whole thing, got off her bar stool and headed back to the main restaurant, intending to tell Liam and Alex they were packing it up. Ben mistook this for a surrender.

"So, tell me Claire, does he ever fuck you bent over his bike?" It was louder than necessary, Ben was making sure everyone in the bar heard it.

Claire went still, only a few steps away from the bar counter. This was his other favorite tactic, publicly embarrassing or humiliating women who denied him. He had used it on her a number of times so that she would go along with what he wanted. He was in for a rude goddamn awakening.

"Actually, yeah. He has. And it was the best sex I've had in my life." Claire spat, equally as loudly, turning to face Ben. It was a lie actually, Chibs had never fucked her bent over his bike, but she was thinking maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. She'd have to thank Ben for the inspiration. "I don't ever say no to Chibs. I sneak over to his Clubhouse on my lunch breaks and he fucks me up against the bathroom door. And you know, sometimes after dinner he puts my ass on the table and eats me for desert. And I scream for him all the fucking time."

Ben choked on what was left of his drink, as did the guy next to him. The barkeep stood in shock, his mouth hanging open, and a lone woman on the corner applauded Claire, looking wholly amused. Claire wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh at Ben's face or choke on what she had just said. The last bit wasn't a lie, half the time Chibs didn't even wait until the table was cleared off, just pushed the dishes around to make room for her. Still, she had never said anything quite so explicit aloud to anyone besides Chibs.

It was very liberating.

Figuring she had made her point, Claire turned on her heel again and marched out of the bar, calling over her shoulder.

"Pay for my drink, it's the least you could do. Asshole."

Liam and Alex were waiting at the dinner table still, getting very cutesy over some shared gelato. They looked up when Claire threw herself into the chair opposite them.

"Everything...okay?" Alex asked after a moment.

"Yeah. I just told Ben to go fuck himself. Basically. Though I think everyone in the bar now knows way more about my sex life than they needed to."

Liam's mouth dropped open, and Alex nearly spat the spoonful of gelato in her mouth all over the table.

"What?"

"He seemed to be insinuating he was better in bed than Chibs. Which is not the case, I assure you." Claire shrugged and shook her head. "Either way, I'm about ready to go. You guys?"

"I've been ready since we got here." Alex answered, standing up, Claire right behind her. Still a little lost, and perhaps grossed out thinking of his sister's sex life -brothers were weird that way- the trio departed the restaurant, pointedly ignoring both Mrs. Reinhardt and Mallory Sr. on the way.

They didn't even leave cash for the tip.


End file.
